


Something So Magic About You

by BFab



Series: From Eden [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Assassination Attempt(s), Blood Magic, Dean is a Fairy King, Espionage, M/M, Mind Control, Royal Dean Winchester, Runes, Sneakery, Soldier Castiel, Spells & Enchantments, epic journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BFab/pseuds/BFab
Summary: Sequel to From Eden - read that one first.  Title is from the Hozier song.Dean has taken his place as the rightful king of Eden, and embarks on a royal tour of the kingdom to get to know the regions and thepeoplefairies who live there.





	1. Dean in Demand

**Author's Note:**

> Well it has taken forever, but the sequel is here!!! This is, for the most part, written, minus some typing and a whole lot of beta-ing. I'm honestly not sure what my posting schedule will look like right now, so please go ahead and hit the "Subscribe" button. Depending on how eager (read:impatient) I get, there may be some posting of unbetaed chapters. We'll see how things go moving forward. 
> 
> But, I got the main story down on paper completely as of today, which happens to be my beta [Tumbleweed_run](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tumbleweed_run/pseuds/Tumbleweed_run%20)'s birthday, so I had to post! Happy birthday, Iz! Also, forever and many thanks to [ANobleCompanion](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ANobleCompanion/pseuds/ANobleCompanion) for being my buddy forever ago when this story started with a prompt for a 1k word challenge. You've stuck with me and encouraged me through _so much more_ than you signed on for and I'm so glad I got a friend out of this deal. You're the best!!

“Alright your Grace, tomorrow we have a meeting of the council directly after breakfast, then you’ll move to the throne room for your audience with the citizens. Your lunch will be taken in the map room with your generals and I have an update here detailing the latest movements of Lucifer’s supporters.”

Dean stifled a sigh as he paused in taking off his boots to take the leather-bound file from Samandriel. He was exhausted, and his secretary’s rundown of the following day was just reminding him how little rest he’d get before starting over again - it was already nearing two in the morning.

“I’ve blocked out an hour and thirty minutes for you to return to the human realm to visit Robert, but then I’ll need you back by half after three. You have an appearance at the primary school, and then you’ll have just enough time to get back here and change for a small dinner party with a few families of the nobility. I’ll make sure that Abner doesn’t try and secure a private audience for his daughter again - I apologize for the last occurrence, I had no idea she would be so forward in approaching you -”

“Alfie,” Dean cut him off. “That’ll do. Thank you, you’re excused.” He’d given Samandriel the nickname because Samandriel was just too much, for obvious reasons he couldn’t use Sam or Sammy, and Dean thought he looked like an Alfie. Samandriel, who has always been addressed by his full name and not a letter less, was thrilled to have a nickname given to him by the king. Once Dean was heard calling him Alfie, it caught on quickly throughout the court.

Alfie made a deep bow and exited the room, finally leaving Dean alone. Well, as close to alone as he could get with guards outside his door and one stationed on the balcony next to his with a full view of anyone entering or leaving Dean’s quarters from that side. One assassin scales the castle wall and comes in his window one night, and the last shred of privacy Dean had vanished. It had been close to a year and a half since he took the crown, and he barely knew himself. 

Dean thought about his upcoming visit with Bobby the next day and sighed. He had fought his staff and advisors tooth and nail to get weekly visits to the human realms, and he got a measly 90 minutes. It was barely enough to catch up with Bobby or Ellen, and not nearly enough to get into a jumpsuit to work on his Baby. The poor girl probably felt neglected, even with Bobby keeping her in working shape.

Dean tossed the strategy folder onto his desk and moved out of his sitting room (because he had one of those in his chambers) and into his bedroom. He shed his clothes, leaving a trail along the floor as he trudged his way to his ridiculously huge bed. He was mostly uncomfortable with his takings as king, feeling like he was a dirty, grungy little kid dressing up in king’s clothes, but this bed? This bed he could appreciate. He climbed up and starfished out in the center, not even coming close to the edges with any of his limbs. He barely managed to pull up the top blanket and wiggle himself under it before he was fast asleep.

~~~

The sun had barely started to cast a glow atop trees of the forest of Eden when Alfie was rousing Dean awake. Dean, for his part, managed to roll out of bed, don the proffered robe that Alfie held out for him, and shuffle into the sitting room where Sam and his breakfast were waiting for him.

“Hey Sammy,” the words came out in a croak, his voice still coated with sleep. “How was the uh, thing, with the… people?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “My dinner with the kingdom’s historians was great,” he said. “Jess brought me a law book - did you know that it’s illegal to cut down a tree without express permission from the royal council? You have to put together a case, tell them which tree you want to cut down and why, and how you’ll use the materials so they don’t go to waste, and to make sure the tree is properly honored.”

Sam was practically vibrating with interest, his bronze wings zipping off bursts of yellow and orange that only Dean could see. Dean squinted at Sam, focusing on his aura. He could just make out, around his shoulders and ribcage, a soft, glowing pink of affection. He smirked. 

“Jess?” Dean inquired innocently. “Would that be Jessica Moore, the pretty blonde historian’s apprentice?” The pink from Sam’s aura spread to his cheeks in a blush. Dean laughed outright. “I see, you aren’t as big of a nerd as I thought, this explains why you’ve been spending so much time in the archives. Gettin’ busy in the stacks, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“You look like an idiot, stop doing that,” Sam grumbled at him. “And you’re the worst, and it’s not like that. And also, _shut up_.”

Dean was laughing harder and harder at Sam’s protests, because as an embarrassing big brother, this was the best conversation _ever_. He took a couple deep breaths to get his laughter under control and leaned forward with mock seriousness, pointing at Sam with his fork and dripping egg yolk onto the tablecloth. “Now Samuel,” he said, putting on his royal voice. “I am the king. Say the word and I’ll arrange the two of you married before lunch.”

Sam groaned and covered his face. “Ohmygod shut up I hate you,” he said, flat and defeated. “Ok yes, I like Jess. And I want to ask her out. But I swear to God Dean, I will kick your ass, king or no, if you ruin this before it even starts. It's not like I made it a huge deal when you and Cas started - whatever it was that you guys had.”

Dean flinched internally at the past tense. It's not like he and Cas had broken up, that would require an established relationship first. They’d been - what they were, and then Dean was a fairy and then he was a king, and Castiel his subject. Then Castiel was given rank as a colonel and was gone, moving throughout the kingdom to help establish the new regime and handle uprisings that cropped up from the scattered supporters of Michael or Lucifer.  
Dean hadn't even seen him in months. Damn near a year, actually. Not that Dean was thinking about it. Him. At all. Dean got news of him in the form of field reports similar to the ones Alfie had given him last night, but they didn’t tell Dean what he wanted to know. He had more information than he knew what to do with in regards to troop movements and skirmishes and the state of the kingdom, hell he could probably tell you how many pregnant cows were in the land at present, but he had no idea how Cas was. Castiel the colonel was doing well, leading his soldiers and doing a damn good job of it. But _Cas_? Dean had no idea if he was happy, sad, homesick, if he was disappointed in Dean as the king? Dean was surrounded by people day in and day out, but he'd find himself almost overcome with loneliness at the most random times, and it made him glad that nobody else could read auras like he could - it would be obvious, and would bring up questions he wouldn’t know how to answer. 

The barest truth was that he missed Castiel. Cas, who had always protected him, who had given Dean a heritage and a people that he didn’t know he was missing, and who had vanished almost as soon as the crown was on Dean’s head. Despite Castiel’s assurances of his affections and that they weren’t just a product of his sense of duty, Dean’s insecurities were always there to knock him on his ass when his guard was let down. Nobody besides Sam and he supposed Gabriel and Hannah knew about them being - _them_ , and Dean understood the vital importance of discretion on the matter, especially with how new Dean’s reign was and how instrumental Castiel had been in helping him obtain the throne, but Dean wished…

“Dean?” Sam said quietly, pulling Dean back into the present.

Dean smiled again, forced and brittle. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. I’ll save your baby pictures for the wedding. I’ll talk to Alfie, though, and make sure that she’s seated next to you at dinner tonight. Make a move, little brother.”

Dean stood halfway out of his chair and reached over to his desk to grab the leather folder of field reports, he then settled back in with his reading and his food, ending the personal conversation.  
He wasn’t mad at Sam or wanting to shut him out, so he did bring up interesting things he found in the reports, or asked Sam’s advice on a thing or two, but he made sure to keep everything strictly business. 

As much as he tried to focus on the contents and prepare for his meeting with his generals later, he found himself lingering on the pages bearing Castiel’s familiar handwriting, attempting to read between the lines for a clue about his well-being. He couldn’t find any, the reports were as succinct as ever. 

~~~

Dean managed to make it through the day being shuffled and dragged to and fro on his various official duties, Alfie at his elbow to direct him. His visit to Bobby had been great - he told Dean that Jo had moved out and gotten a place of her own. Her income as a self-defense and firearms instructor was steady and good, and she wasn’t relying on Bobby and Ellen anymore.

“Ellen has hired three new people to take Jo’s place, and all three of them together can’t do what that girl did. There's something to be said for growin’ up in a business - Jo is the most efficient worker I’ve ever seen.”

Dean told Bobby that Sam may have found a girl in Eden, and hastily redirected the conversation when Bobby asked about Castiel. Toward the end of their visit, Dean slumped at the prospect of returning to his responsibilities. 

“I’m so fucking tired, Bobby. I’m goin’ nonstop, being asked to make decisions about stuff I don’t know nothing about, I’m in way over my head, man. I’m not cut out for this.”

Bobby had put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing until Dean met his eyes. “Listen boy, you are the strongest man I know. You raised your brother when you lost your mama and your daddy lost his damn mind, and you stepped in to rule over an entire realm of people you didn’t know because it was the right thing to do. If you ain’t king material, I don’t know who would be.”

They had parted with a tight hug involving several hearty pats on the back, and Dean left for Eden with wet eyes. Bobby’s pep talk carried him through the rest of his day until he fell into bed again, exhausted. He had no appointments until lunch the following day and was looking forward to sleeping in. 

Dean had blessedly been able to sleep until he woke up naturally. He found his breakfast tray waiting in his sitting room and was happy to eat it cold, feeling loose and well-rested for the first time in months. 

He was just shrugging into his jacket when there was a soft knock at the door and Alfie poked his head in. 

“Ah, your Grace. I was just coming to wake you up. You have another meeting in the map room today, with Gabriel and Hael. They’ll be expecting you in fifteen minutes.”

“Hael - she oversees the capitol’s correspondence with the farther villages, right?”

Alfie nodded, and Dean gave himself a mental high five for remembering that detail.

“Yes, now that your presence here in the capitol is established, we’re going to leave soon on your royal tour of the entire kingdom so you can connect with the fairies outside the nobility and those nearby. You expressed the wish to get to know all of your subjects.”

Dean nodded absently as he pulled on his boots. “Sounds good, who’s coming with me?”

Alfie consulted a list he apparently magicked into his hands. “Let’s see, me, of course. Balthazar and Ezekiel will be heading security with a small team each, Hael, Metatron the royal historian -”

“Is Metatron bringing any of his apprentices?” Dean cut in.

“Yes, he’s taking Gadreel. Ms. Moore will maintain the archives in our absence. Oh, and Samuel is coming, of course.”

“Nope,” Dean said suddenly, startling his poor secretary. “Sam is staying here to run things. What’s that called? Prince Regent,” he answered his own question, feeling very satisfied with himself.

“Forgive me your Grace, in saying that is not necessary. The council -”

“Listen Alfie,” Dean said, putting a hand on his shoulder and affecting his King Voice. “I know you’re here to help me out, and you’ve worked hard to keep me from making an ass of myself on many separate occasions. But I’ve still gotta make some decisions, and I’m deciding right now that we need a Winchester on the throne during my absence and that Sam will be my regent. Of course he’ll attend council meetings and consider their advice, but I'm not gonna have the both of us together leaving the capitol right now.”

When Alfie looked like he was going to protest further, Dean looked at the clock on the wall pointedly. “Let’s head out,” he said, effectively ending the conversation and striding out of the room. Dean felt like he was the best big brother ever, and figured that Sam would probably be engaged to Jessica by the time Dean made it back from his tour. He couldn’t keep the self-pleased smile off his face as he went into the meeting to go over the travel arrangements.

At the news of Sam’s staying behind, Hael pursed her lips but offered no argument, merely shuffling papers and making notes to adjust party information as far as travel, lodging, meals, and ceremonies without Sam to fill the space by Dean’s side. Gabriel got a positively wicked gleam in his eye but kept his mouth shut at Dean’s cold glare. Dean wasn’t worried, he knew that Sam was into Jessica, and that he could hold his own. Plus, Gabriel’s advances were all talk, he wouldn’t actually _do_ anything. Probably. 

The meeting took nearly four hours. Lunch had been brought in for them at some point, and they covered every inch of the plans for the tour. They’d leave in three days. Gabriel outlined the duties and orders for the soldiers that would be going along under Balthazar and Ezekiel’s command, and assured Dean that they were all trustworthy and hand picked by Gabriel himself. He also went over movements of rebel groups and their own troops in relation, covering distance and risk possibilities according to their travel plans, and the extensive safety measures he’d laid out in consideration of those risks. 

Hael covered the customs of the villages, who the leaders were, and subtly slipped in information on some of the noble families who had daughters eligible for marriage. Dean managed to hold back an exasperated sigh, but it was a near thing. It seemed that anyone loyal to the Campbell/Winchester line was eager for its continuation, and Dean was constantly fielding bolder and bolder remarks about his marrying soon and working on heirs. 

Dean was not interested. He was brand new to the realm, he was an outsider, and also the king. There was no way for him to get to know anyone naturally, to even think about dating in his position. Any relationship that he might pursue would be in the public eye, scrutinized and analyzed and he’d get the opinion of everyone in the damn kingdom. Plus, how would he ever know if the other person was genuine in their interest? So yeah. Lack of privacy, people who were interested in his power only, that’s why Dean didn’t want to meet any of the eligible fairy ladies that were shoved in his path. 

It wasn’t like Cas was waiting for him, or still wanted to be with him. They could’ve kept him in the capitol, part of the royal guard like he had been before, and he could’ve stayed with Dean, but he accepted a rank from the council and left without raising any objections. Hell, maybe he volunteered to leave. Dean knew the reasons, they made sense when Castiel had told him why it was better for him to go, for their connection to appear less significant to the people of Eden. Castiel didn’t want any challenge to Dean’s claim, didn’t want to be seen as Dean’s puppet master, so separation was important, at least in the beginning. But it had been almost a year with no communication from Castiel other than his reports from the field, and even though Dean saw those, they went through superior officers and others before getting to Alfie, and then to Dean. They weren’t for him. They were for Eden. 

_Maybe after this tour_ , Dean thought, eyes staring blankly at a random map on the wall. _Maybe when I’ve been all over this kingdom and I’m more familiar and established, I can call Cas back and appoint him to my personal guard. He let his mind wander, spilling out impossible fantasies. If this whole Sam and Jess thing works out, they can have babies, and I can name them heirs. Everyone could leave me the hell alone about continuing the family line and I could be with Cas, out in the open…_

Hael noticed that she’d lost his attention, and with a pointed, “your Grace,” moved on to the notes she had gotten from the tailor, and informed him that he would be taking a valet on this trip to help him with his wardrobe, and that was non-negotiable. Dean resigned himself to the extra fuss since it was special circumstances, even though he refused for the more relaxed day-to-day stuff. He wasn’t one to stand on ceremony, but he understood that he did have to show proper respect to village and town leaders on this trip, which meant he had to look his best.

Frankly, it made him uncomfortable having such a large staff, and having yet another person invade his privacy (what privacy?) was a point he fought his advisors and his council on. But he could concede that he needed extra help looking sharp while traveling around the countryside and living out of luggage.

Alfie sat in the corner taking notes, and Dean watched his to-do list grow. When the meeting was finally over and Dean left, Alfie was at his elbow, attempting to direct him towards the tailor for some last-minute measurements for his traveling clothes. Dean shook his head and stopped, causing Alfie to nearly trip over himself to prevent bowling into Dean.

“I need to go see my family,” Dean said, turning towards his chambers.

Alfie stammered. “Your Grace, you just had a visit, and there are preparations to be made for your journey.” He was shuffling, trying to keep up with Dean’s long strides without breaking into an undignified jog.

“Listen Alfie,” Dean explained as they walked. “This tour is gonna last a good three months. Gabe just spent half an hour telling me why inter-realm travel won’t be possible on the road, both logistically and for security reasons. I’m not gonna disappear for three months without letting them know what’s going on.”

“Of course we’d send them notice, your Majesty,” Alfie tried, but Dean wasn’t about to cut communication with no more than some note from a random fairy for his family.

He’d discussed with Bobby the importance of his weekly visits, for more than socialization. Dean may be new to this royalty thing, but he wasn’t an idiot. He was, after all, well aware of what happened to his mom and grandparents. That situation had gone unresolved and unchallenged for near twenty years because it was explained away as an accident. Dean had told Bobby not to accept any news that wasn’t directly from him, Sam, or Castiel. If anything fishy came up - like some soldier or messenger from Eden telling Bobby that Dean was on a last-minute trip around the kingdom and would be out of touch indefinitely - Bobby was supposed to worry. He’d try to contact Sam or Castiel, if he couldn’t reach them he’d try Gabriel and Hannah as a last resort.

Anyways. Messenger - bad. Dean needed to go see them, all of them, to let them know what was going on. “Clear my afternoon, Alfie. I’m gonna go see Bobby and Ellen and Jo. My dinner thing is at seven tonight, right?” Alfie gave a bare nod. “I'll be back by then.” 

Dean clapped Alfie on the shoulder, stepped into his chambers, and closed the heavy door between them. He needed a little space and quiet to gather his focus to Travel.


	2. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's royal tour kicks off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The insanely nice comments on the first chapter made me excited to post more, so here's chapter 2!!

Dean had a fantastic afternoon visiting his family. He filled Bobby in on his upcoming tour and helped him set up a direct line to Sam in the castle thanks to an old cell phone and a little fairy magic. He saw Ellen at the Roadhouse and ate until he was stuffed, burgers and fries and pie enough to last him three months without. Then he visited Jo in her new apartment, where she bullied him into assembling the entertainment center she’d gotten at IKEA three weeks prior. When teased that he didn’t see a problem with the current setup, which was her TV sitting on top of the unopened entertainment center box, she put him into a lightning-quick arm lock that had him kneeling on the floor in front of her with his arm pulled back at an angle painful for his shoulder. He let out a gasping laugh and agreed to build that damn thing in exchange for a quick sparring lesson on getting out of various holds. 

They had a sit down family dinner, and Dean somehow managed to find room for more food. He didn’t care that he was spoiling his appetite for his second dinner waiting in Eden, he’d always choose Ellen’s home cooking over the fancy royal menus at the castle with too many forks, and he was to dine with yet another set of dignitaries, which meant he’d be doing a lot more talking than eating anyways. After setting up the phone for Bobby to use, Jo tested it by bugging Sam until he agreed to come for dinner, and he showed up rubbing his temple and glaring at her. Dean soaked up the simplicity and warmth of being with his family without the weight of royal expectations. 

Through the afternoon with the relaxed comfort, the teasing, fighting with Jo over the last dinner roll, and standing side by side with Ellen in the kitchen afterwards washing dishes, Dean felt the crushing weight of his responsibilities easing up a bit. He knew that he had done the right thing by taking the throne. It was what was best for Eden and it gave Dean a sense of purpose that he had been missing his whole life, but he couldn’t help but feel like an imposter. He was getting better and more comfortable in his role as king, and hoped that the upcoming tour would give him that last little push to truly belonging in Eden. No matter how well he established himself in the fairy realm, Dean figured he’d always feel like he was coming home to his human family also.

When it was time to leave, Dean just barely restrained himself from asking for a group hug. He dragged his goodbyes out long enough that he started to get a headache from Alfie’s insistent prodding at the back of his mind, beckoning him back to Eden to resume his duties. He took the good leather satchel that Bobby had dug out of the back of a spare closet and filled with traveling gifts from the three of them, and Traveled back to his quarters in Eden.

~~~

 

Dean smiled and nodded through the political dinner, paying as little attention as possible to the topics of conversation. He redirected as much as he could to Sam, telling himself it was to get the kid some visibility and show his trust and respect, seeing as he’d be Regent for the next few months. Really, he just wanted to zone out a bit.

After dinner was over Dean tried to retreat to his bed, but ended up having to detour for a late night tailor visit since he had skipped out on his earlier appointment to visit his family. The royal tailor was a stooped, quiet old man who went by Mr. Vantoch. He directed Dean’s movements by nudges and pushes to his person, and when he was satisfied with his fittings he just said, “tomorrow night,” and shuffled into the back room.

Dean, figuring he had been dismissed, sat down in a nearby chair to pull on his boots. He was startled when his shoe was handed to him. “Jesus, you scared me. Where the hell did you come from?”

“That chair over there,” the man said flatly, gesturing towards a corner mostly in shadow. Belatedly, he added on, “your Grace,” and a stilted half-bow.

Dean sat back so he could look at the guy - shorter than him, strong, compact stature, and close-cropped hair. “Are you a new guard?” Dean asked, thinking he had a military look about him. 

The guy game him a look that closely rivaled Sam’s, “Dean you’re an idiot,” bitch face and answered. “No Sire, my name is Cole Trenton, I’m your valet for this trip.” 

Another bow seemed to drag itself out of Cole’s frame, and while the titles and honorifics were there in his speech, the respect was distinctly lacking from his tone.

Dean’s hackles raised, and he tried not to go on the defensive too quickly. Not everyone liked or trusted an outsider as their king, he knew, and he told himself he’d rather have a little honest contempt over gratuitous ass-kissing. Dean studies Cole’s aura and sensed annoyance, disdain, but there wasn’t any violence in it. Cole may not like or respect him, but as far as Dean could tell (which was significantly more than most people), he didn’t mean him any real harm. They had several months in close quarters coming up, and Dean was determined to prove himself to Cole. The entire trip was about making himself known to his subjects, getting people on his side, and Dean thought that Cole would be a good gauge as to how he was doing.

He stood, still in his socks, and inclined his head. He had tried the whole introduce-yourself-with-a-handshake thing when he’d first taken the crown, and the level of scandal stirred up by the king shaking hands had been a nightmare. It seemed that propriety would be the better approach here. “Mr. Trenton, good to meet you, thank you for entering my service. It seems like I’ll be relying on you for quite a bit of my daily routines, which I’m used to handling myself. I’ll probably screw some stuff up, but I’m sure that you’ll be able to help me learn the proper protocol.”

He had stumbled a bit over the awkward speech, but Cole’s shoulders seemed to release a bit of their tension, and his next bow to Dean came easier. “Of course, your Grace,” he said, and picked up Dean’s boot. “May I?” He asked, kneeling.

Dean didn’t want to, he wasn’t a child and he could put on his own damn shoes, but he couldn’t refuse now after he’d just promised to be agreeable. So he nodded and sat, and held out his foot for his valet to put on his boots for him.

~~~

The next two days of preparations had Dean going nonstop, with barely any time to breathe. When he wasn’t getting facts and rules drilled into his head by Hael, he was getting last minute fittings at the tailor, or going over daily duties with Sam, or reviewing exit plans with Gabriel. His meals, when they weren’t taken over a planning meeting, were crowded with nobles trying to curry some last-minute favor with Dean, or hoping that their daughters would get noticed by him before his journey - and all of the additional marriageable young women he was bound to meet on his tour. If he was able to actually find himself sitting down to eat, he’d be interrupted mid-bite by Alfie presenting him with a sheaf of papers to sign or plans to approve; it was exhausting.

After a blur of preparations, Dean found himself bundled into a carriage with Alfie and Cole as his road trip buddies. Man, he missed his Baby. Cole had, over the past couple days, joined Alfie and the small squad of personal guards as part of Dean’s constant shadow, with him day in and day out. Two of Dean’s guards were atop the coach with the driver, and the rest were in formation on horseback surrounding it. “How long are we driving today?” He looked to Alfie for an answer.

“It will be two days before our first official stop, your Grace. We’ll stop late morning and early evening for a quick meal and shift change for the guards before settling in tonight at a small inn. Then back on the road tomorrow, same schedule before your welcoming ceremony when we arrive the following midday in Modell, our first destination.” Alfie’s answer was well-rehearsed, his competence in his job showing through.

Cole seemed to be trying to set the curtains on fire with the power of his glare, looking none too pleased at being stuck in an enclosed space with no reprieve from Dean’s company available. Alfie was calm and unflappable, which was his usual state when Dean wasn’t actively throwing a wrench in his carefully-crafted schedule. Dean stared blankly ahead, gaze going distant, and heaved a sigh.

“I’m gonna take a nap,” he said decisively. Alfie and Cole kept their faces neutral, but Dean could see the discomfort in their auras. Fairies, after all, didn’t sleep. They had beds for restful times (and certain amorous activities), but unconsciousness was for the sick or injured. Those who had spent an extended period of time with Dean were familiar with his need for actual, human sleep, but it was still a stark reminder of his otherness. He shoved the throw pillows littering the bench around, using one to lay his head on, and spread his traveling cloak over himself for a blanket. He turned towards the back of the seat to avoid his servants’ gazes and let the overwhelming exhaustion of the last few days (months) wash over him, and the gentle rocking of the carriage helped him drift off quickly into sleep. 

Dean managed to nap until they stopped for lunch and he woke groaning as he stretched muscles that had been cramped and still for several hours. Alfie had mentioned a picnic lunch, so when Dean stepped out of the carriage he was surprised to find an elaborate tent set up, waiting for him in a grassy clearing, a perfect circle set just off the forest road. Inside was a small table with a chair and a full meal of fruit, cold cuts, cheeses, and fresh, crusty bread laid upon it. It looked delicious, and like it was way too much effort for just one person’s meal. He sighed and tried to object to the fuss, but when he tried to invite everyone in to at least share his meal, Cole’s cold glare and Alfie’s scandalized exclamation had him relenting. The food really was excellent, and he made sure to find Missouri and thank her before they got back on the road.

~~~

And so the day passed. Dean tried to engage Cole in conversation, but the responses he got were minimal, and the man was obviously uncomfortable being informal with his king. At one point, Dean even bought out the pack of cards that Jo had given him when he was talking about the long journey. Alifie apologized with all of his normal formalities, but said he was reviewing the evening’s lodgings and making sure everything ran smoothly. Cole simply said, “I’m not much for games,” and continued to glare out the window with his arms crossed, so Dean was left trying to fit his game of solitaire atop the small table within the carriage. Alfie looked a bit uncomfortable arranging sheafs of paper on his lap and on the seat next to him, but didn’t say anything about Dean taking over the table. After a game and a half of having to pick up dropped cards and try and remember the order they were in, Dean yielded the table to Alfie and pulled a tangle of thin, colorful leather pieces out of his bag. He disentangled a few strands of blue and black and green that were already partway braided together, and continued weaving his design, holding the end taut between his knees. He finished that bracelet and two more before he got restless. 

Dean rummaged in his bag for the rest of the road trip gifts from his family. In addition to the cards from Jo he has a bag of homemade venison jerky from Bobby with meat the old man had hunted himself, the first two books in the Game of Thrones series from Sam, and a sack stuffed with hand pies that Ellen had baked for him. There was apple, cherry, and a banana butterscotch cream that she said she was trying out for the Roadhouse menu. She had sent him with a good dozen pies of each flavor, so he had no reservations about sharing.

When he offered up the small treats Alfie refused, saying he was still quite full from lunch, and he found that food from the human realm didn’t agree with him. Cole looked at the bag like it had offended him, and when Dean gave up and was bout to put it away he said grudgingly, “may I try a cherry one please, Sire?”

Dean grinned and handed over a pastry. He held out the bag one more time to Alfie, one last tempt, but received a slight shake of the head in response. “I thank you, your Grace, but I couldn’t possibly.”

Cole muttered a quiet thanks and took a tentative bite of the pastry. His eyes widened, and the next bite was much larger. When he saw Dean smiling at him, he flushed and trained his gaze on the floor, apparently surprised at himself for letting his surly demeanor slip. 

Dean himself tried the banana butterscotch, startling both Alfie and Cole when he moaned around the bite. “Oh man, Ellen has outdone herself with this one,” he said, mouth full and hand gesturing with the pie. He took another huge bite, some of the filling spilling out and onto his chin.

Alfie sighed. “Here you are, your Grace,” and provided a handkerchief for Dean to wipe his face. Cole still had his eyes on the floor of the carriage, but his neck and ears were tinged pink. Dean squinted, trying to get a read on him, but his aura was a mess of swirling colors and Dean couldn’t parse them out.

They finished the day in a more comfortable silence than earlier, even if it couldn’t be deemed companionable. Dean started on the books Sam had given him and was quickly sucked into the story, so the rest of the day flew by.

Their second day on the road passed much the same as the first. Cole was silent and begrudging, though Dean was able to get him to try one of the banana butterscotch pies, and Alfie was endlessly polite and aloof.

When they made it to the tiny inn the second night, which Dean could barely pick out from the surrounding forest, Dean took his dinner with Balthazar and Ezekiel. The next day would include a morning of travel, and they’d be in the city of Modell by midday. Balthazar went over - again - the plans for their entrance into the city, how their party would move so Dean’s carriage was visible but protected, and where they’d be in the town hall, the layout of the building, and how they’d get Dean out in a crisis. Dean had nothing new to offer - he’d been over all of this information countless times with Gabriel before they left, and he had no military experience, unlike Balthazar and Ezekiel, so he was comfortable with trusting them.

“Bal, Zeke,” he said, sipping at the excellent wine that had been provided, which Dean privately thought was wasted on his unrefined palette. “You don’t need to convince me that you know your jobs. Everything will be fine.” He snagged two empty wine glasses from a nearby shelf and filled them. He gave one to each of the captains, who eagerly set aside their mugs of ale in favor of the deep, rich wine. “Tell me,” he asked, reaching for his satchel. “Have you ever tried pie?”


	3. Modell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean arrives in the first town on his tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Three! Makes me wanna say Wheee!!! 
> 
> Thanks to [Tumbleweed_run](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tumbleweed_run/pseuds/Tumbleweed_run%20) for looking this chapter over for me.

Dean woke with a headache the next morning, and it tasted like something had died in his mouth. Missouri made him drink a foul-tasting tea that cleared up the effects of the previous night’s drinking, and he was pretty sure the woman was a saint. The hangover was worth it, he felt, to be on friendlier terms with someone - _anyone_ \- in his traveling party. Balthazar and Ezekiel were still very professional, extremely knowledgeable and good at their jobs, but on the last morning before their arrival at the first town, Ezekiel gave him a wave and a grin while they were loading up, and Balthazar rode his horse alongside the carriage for the better part of an hour so he could talk to Dean through the open window.

Dean was grateful for the company. Alfie was just as eagerly efficient as he ever was, ready to outline Dean’s schedule to the minute or provide encyclopedic knowledge on the subtleties of regional manners and customs at the drop of a hat, but if Dean tried to ask him anything about his personal life he was met with a politely blank stare. Cole continued to be reticent. Unlike Alfie, who was smiling and used the utmost amount of respect when addressing Dean, Cole barely took the time to pause in his work of shining Dean’s boots or repairing a seam in his shirt to glare at him disapprovingly. When he could be bothered to respond verbally, the “Sire” or “your Grace” was grudgingly tacked on the end. They were both, in their own ways, excellent workers, and they both, in their own ways, kept their private lives firmly separate from any of their official duties. Apparently, they considered interacting with Dean, in any capacity, part of their official duties. At least he finally found a couple of people in this realm who treated him like a person, and not just the crown.

They took a break for an early lunch at the top of a grassy hill with the town of Modell visible in the distance over the treeline. It was difficult to distinguish from the rest of the forest, save for a large structure on one side with an open meadow surrounding it. The Town Hall, where they’d be staying for their visit, occupied a square of land on the far East side of the town. It backed up to a large but not-quite-a-mountain hill, and the rest of the buildings seemed to spill out from this high point. If he focused, he could see the deliberate patterns and shapes that set apart a fairy structure from the wild forest.

Dean - who lately lived in an actual stone castle, had been anticipating a medieval-looking town with a stone wall, thatched roofs, and cobbled roads. This town wasn’t even close. Despite living in the capital, he was still constantly surprised at the beauty of Eden. He couldn’t quite drop a lot of his human mindset, which involved stripping away nature to build up land for the needs of humans, but fairies didn’t work that way.

Dean had often heard of cities being described as “alive,” but in the human realm that meant traffic and bustle, lights and business continuing through the night, and the unnatural, pulsing energy of concrete and neon. This city, Modell, _breathed_. He could feel the life rolling out of the city’s heart, washing over him with a feeling of excitement and anticipation. They were eager to see their king.

Dean smiled - for the first time since it was brought up, Dean was excited about this town. He knew it had been his idea to tour the kingdom, but mostly he’d been nervous. His persistent thoughts of inadequacy worming their way into every planning meeting. But to actually feel the anticipation, the happiness of these people - his people - he couldn’t hold back a breathless laugh of amazement. He rushed through his lunch, eager to get back on the road. He could feel pulses of excitement coming from Modell, growing as his party was spotted and word spread through the streets. He got a few strange looks from his staff - his default mode for this trip so far had been nervous reluctance, and they were taken aback by his sudden turnaround. Since Dean was the only person - human or fairy - that anyone knew of with the empath talent, his change of heart would seem sudden and inexplicable without that extra source of information.

“They’re excited to meet me,” he grinned at Alfie.

“Very well, Sire,” Alfie said, inclining his head in a slight bow. He then turned and started giving instructions, starting a bustle around the camp for final royal arrival preparations, and left Dean feeling a bit downcast at his secretary’s lack of enthusiasm.

As Cole stepped forward with one of Dean’s “king” coats to replace the simpler traveling one he had on, Dean smiled at him and tried to share some of his excitement. Cole worked silently and efficiently to get Dean looking regal enough for his arrival, but Dean could practically see the eyeroll in the guy’s aura.

“Come on man, you’ve gotta give me something,” Dean said, cajolingly. “I’m not such a bad guy, right? I shared my pie with you, didn’t I? Why aren’t we friends yet?”

Cole’s lips thinned disapprovingly. “Respectfully Sire, I am not looking for a _friend_ ,” he almost sneered at the word, “but for a king. Were our positions different, equal, I dare say we would probably get along well. As it stands, I am still waiting to see proof of your competence as a leader outside of your heritage and a bit of a light show.”

Cole cut himself off abruptly, breathing hard, red in the face, and his aura swirling in streams of surprise and anger, tinted over by frustration and a sharp lance of fear as his brain caught up with his mouth. He stammered a bit, “I - your Grace - I apologize for my -”

“No,” Dean cut him off, still reeling. “I pushed you, you’ve done your best to remain professional, and I didn’t respect your uh, boundaries. So I’ll just pretend that never happened and we can go forward, business as usual, yeah?”

Cole nodded, eyes downcast. “Yes, your Grace. Thank you, your Grace.”

Dean had one more question he needed answered, one thing to make sure of before they could move forward. He studied Cole for a moment, letting his eyes lose focus on his features and bring his aura to the forefront. “Cole,” he said evenly, and he could see the snap of attention in Cole’s aura when he heard Dean’s tone. “Are you loyal to Zachariah, Michael, or Lucifer?”

The shuddering wave of disgust that rolled over Cole couldn’t be faked, and Dean believed his vehement, “ _No, Sire_.” 

He started to continue with reassurances, but Dean waved it off. “No, no, I’ve got it. I just had to make sure that your dislike was for my sake and not for some murderous usurper.” Dean flashed a small, self-deprecating smile, trying to keep the hurt off his face. He shrugged his shoulders, settling his coat more comfortably. “Thank you, Mr. Trenton, that will be all.” His voice was smooth and regal, and his stance shifted to match it. Cole was right. The people of Eden didn’t need some guy showing up like an excited kid claiming to be their king. 

Dean had been in Eden long enough now that his timid demeanor had to go. He had gotten his time to adjust. As much as he still felt overwhelmed and lost and terrifyingly inadequate, he couldn’t show it now. He needed to be a leader, to put some action to his claim and prove (to himself, as much as to Eden) that he deserved the throne and that he could honor the legacy of his mother. Dean let the weight of his responsibilities, which he’d been trying so hard to keep at bay, settle on his shoulders. He had expected it to crush him, to buckle his knees and bow his back, but it settled steadily, comforting, grounding him and strengthening his resolve. He knew the plan was for him to ride through the city in his carriage, smiling and waving like a princess with his entourage surrounding him on horseback. He decided that wouldn’t do.

“Where’s Impala?” Dean said, looking towards the rear of the camp where the horsemaster was. Impala was a gorgeous black stallion that Cas had given Dean as a birthday gift. Despite what his bowed legs might suggest, Dean hadn’t had much experience with horses in his lie, and he’d spent as much free time as he could over the previous months getting comfortable with riding. Despite his staff’s objections that bringing the horse along would be unnecessary since Dean would be in his carriage the whole time and it wasn’t like they could use the king’s personal mount as a cart or supply horse, Dean had insisted, and now he was glad for it. 

As Impala was readied to be brought to Dean, Balthazar approached him, frowning. “Your Grace, you are to ride in your carriage, we’ve gone over the security reasons.” He had a tightness around his eyes, not wanting to argue with his king, but not eager to throw away all of his plans, either.

“I know Bal,” Dean said, trying to sound apologetic. “I know the plan, and your reasons, but I’m riding Impala in. You’ll be in front with your team, then me, and Zeke at my six. After his team will be my carriage, then the rest of the procession will follow in the order we had planned. Will that work?”

Balthazar sighed, just as Ezekiel was arriving to make his own queries about the change in plans. “If you insist on being on horseback, your Grace, I cannot leave your flank open. Our teams will take the positions you’ve suggested, but Ezekiel and myself will be directly next to you on either side.” Ezekiel nodded his agreement, and so did Dean.

“Sounds fair enough,” he said, and walked towards Impala, who he could see was saddled and being led to him. Cole appeared at his side, holding out a pair of riding gloves. Dean nodded his thanks and pulled his gloves on, stepping to his horse. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he murmured to Impala. “Knew I couldn’t leave you behind. How am I gonna make a good impression without your pretty face, huh? Ready to get going?” With a final affectionate rub to the horse’s velvet nose, he swung himself up onto his back. It had been too long since he’d ridden, bogged down as he’d been in the castle. So he led Impala at an easy walk through the camp as everyone finished packing up, warming them both up a little and dispelling some of the jitters so they’d be ready for the ride into and through the city.

~~~

Dean’s grand entrance into Modell went better than he could’ve hoped. He sensed a few pockets of distrust or unhappiness on the streets as he rode Impala through the city to the Town Hall, but for the most part, he was greeted with light and joy and celebration. He was presented with loaves of bread, delicate, fragrant pastries, intricately woven cloth, and baskets of gleaming, plump produce. It seemed that citizens were handing over the best of what they made to Dean. He smiled and waved graciously as various guards accepted the gifts on his behalf and loaded them into the carriage. He saw a group of young children, barefoot and tangling their wings in the legs of the adults around them, jumping and waving and shouting. Dean waved, and let out a laugh at their delighted squeals that followed. Dean was buoyant - he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so at home in his own skin. The line between Dean and King Winchester was blurring. Absently, Dean supposed that maybe that should scare him, but he was too happy to care. At that moment, it felt like he could handle anything.

Dean had to stop himself from gaping as they approached the Town Hall. He passed under a living, growing arch of flowers that released a soft shower of petals as he went through, and then before him, across a wide, grassy lawn, sat the Town Hall itself. It didn’t look so much like a building as a grove of trees that had grown together, merging and weaving themselves into a single grand structure. Dean had never seen anything like it. In the capital, many of the buildings were architecturally cultivated, of course, but the castle he lived in was a traditional stone, if not as cold and imposing as one would expect, and the cultivated buildings he’d seen had been grown from a single massive tree, like Castiel’s house. He’d even seen what resembled apartments, with more than one dwelling nestled one atop another within a single tree. Those had not prepared him to see this, and he couldn’t help a breathed-out whisper of “awesome.”

The welcoming ceremony, slightly awkward and overly formal, was thankfully short, and soon enough Dean and his staff were given time to rest and settle into their rooms. Dean toed off his boots and shed his jacket, crawling into the large nest of soft pillows and cozy blankets, and groaned out loud at the relief he felt on his back. Alfie said he had an hour and a half, and Dean was planning on using his time to nap. He nuzzled into the pillows a bit, wiggling around to get comfortable, and was just on the edge of dozing off when he heard his chamber door opening. He cracked open his eye on the side of his face that wasn’t mashed into a pillow and saw Cole picking up his boots and placing them in the wardrobe. He heard a quiet, annoyed huff at finding Dean’s jacket unceremoniously crumpled on the seat of a chair before Cole took the time to hang it carefully and neatly in the wardrobe. He moved to Dean’s chest that was in the corner to start unpacking the rest of his things, laying out his dinner clothes. When Cole glanced over and saw Dean watching him, he flushed slightly. 

“Excuse me, Sire,” he mumbled and took himself to the small adjoining room that he would be staying in.

Dean considered telling him to stay and finish his work, but he really did want a nap, so he shrugged to himself and burrowed further into the nest, dropping off quickly.

When Alfie woke him a short time later to get ready for the big dinner, Dean was warm and cozy and slightly disoriented. He sat up and blinked himself awake, looking around the room. _Modell, right._ Alfie had a seating chart to go over with him, detailing who he’d be sitting near and a few suggested conversation topics. Before he could get into the small talk, though, he needed to give a toast.

“It’s very straightforward,” Alfie was saying. “Thank them for the welcome, the city is beautiful, you’re eager to meet your subjects, and so forth.”

Just as Dean was going to ask about the menu (he’d hate to be confronted with like, a fish head, and offend someone with a knee-jerk reaction), Cole came in from his side room. He was carrying freshly cleaned and polished boots of supple brown leather and a dark brown dinner jacket with subtle embroidery in the Campbell design along the collar and cuffs. He laid the items out carefully and moved to Dean’s wardrobe, gathering trousers and a clean shirt. Dean took the garments from his hands. “I know you're my valet, but I’ll take care of the basics, ok? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have time to fix the way my shirt is tucked in or the angle of my collar or whatever it is that bugs you.” He turned to Alfie. “Is there a washroom nearby?”


	4. Arbortech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean visits a treehouse, meets an arbortech, and has a misunderstanding. Or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one night, look at me go! I looked this over and tried to edit before posting, but it is late and I had to deal with children and I have to wake up early for work tomorrow, so if I missed something, I apologize.

In Dean’s castle in the capital, he had a washroom with a huge tub that was filled by servants hauling hot water up from the kitchen below via a dumbwaiter-type contraption. It always made Dean feel guilty for all the work they put in just so he could bathe, and he had plans in the back of his mind to rig up a shower. He thought that his handyman skills would be up to the job, and he’d get some advice on adapting it for Eden, since apparently the laws of physics weren’t entirely the same as the human realm’s. 

His last two nights saying in small inns had left him with a pitcher and basin in his room for washing. He was hoping, with the elegance of the Town Hall, to at least have some warm water for a bath, but the servant he was following led him to a much different place. It was open and airy, the floors were smooth, gleaming wood, soft underfoot. They appeared to be polished, with a pattern of grooves winding their way across the room. Dean was high enough in the trees that the ceiling was made up of green, leafy branches. Near the center of the room hung a rope, and when Dean followed its path upward, all he could see was that it was connected to a branch for some reason.

The servant placed clean linens and Dean’s clothes on a dry shelf, made his bows, and left. Dean looked around for a water source and came up with… nothing. He left his shoes and socks next to his clothes, and wandered to the middle of the room in his undershirt and trousers. He approached the rope, which he figured had to have some sort of purpose, and looked again at the branch it was connected to. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, so he gave it an experimental tug.

The branch tethered to the rope tipped forward and a cascade of water hit Dean directly in his upturned face. He sputtered, dropping the rope, and the water stopped. _Well that answers that question_ , he thought. He finished undressing, his soaked shirt landing with a splat on the floor, and returned to the center of the room to pull the rope again, this time with his upper body safely angled away so he could observe the mechanism. He could see now that the branch dipped along its length, and a trough was carved along the top so that when it was pulled down by the rope, water from somewhere above - some sort of reservoir, he assumed - used gravity to turn itself into a shower. The water wasn’t hot, probably not a great plan to maintain a fire amongst tree branches, but it was pleasantly warm, and Dean felt clean and refreshed after he was done washing, the grime of the road flowing in rivulets through the grooves in the floor and away. 

He toweled off and put his clean clothes on before returning to his chambers barefoot, wet clothes and boots in hand. His room was empty, and he tried to hang his dripping clothes in the wardrobe, hoping that maybe they’d dry ok and Cole wouldn’t notice. He was straightening the shirt on the hanger when he nearly jumped out his his skin at Cole’s voice.

“Generally one gets undressed _before_ bathing Sire,” he said dryly.

Dean laughed at himself. “Ah, yeah, I didn’t get the tutorial for the shower, and sorta figured out how it works by trial and error.”

Cole kept a straight face as he plucked the shirt from the hanger and moved to arrange it near the window, but Dean could see pops and fizzles of bright amusement in his aura. “An unfortunate oversight on my part, Sire. In the future I will make myself available should you need assistance in your bathing.”

Dean looked at him, taken aback. _Was that… flirting?_

Before he could think of a response, Cole’s face and aura flushed hot with embarrassment. He made a quick bow and practically ran from the room, closing the door behind him. Dean was due for dinner soon, so he finished dressing himself, taking extra care to make his clothes a neat and presentable as possible, before leaving to find Alfie in the hallway.

~~~

Seated at the head of a massive table, Dean tried not to shift in his chair as each person around the table was introduced to him. He was nervous about his toast, and when everyone had been named all eyes in the room turned to him. He took a sip of his water, cleared his throat, set aside the water glass to pick up the one with wine, and stood to speak. 

“Citizens of Modell, I am honored to be here as your king. This is my first time outside of the capital, and I’m once again amazed at the beauty of our land. I thought that I had gotten used to life here in Eden, that I had a pretty solid understanding of things, but I have to say, I was blown away by your city. I’m so happy to be here, and to have the opportunity to fall more in love with Eden because of places like this and people like you. Thank you for welcoming me, I can’t wait to go out into the city tomorrow and see what you’ve built here.” Dean raised his glass, ending his speech, and took a sip of the strong, sweet wine. 

There was polite applause, and a couple short toasts from city leaders thanking Dean for his visit, and then dinner was served. The first course came out a salad with lettuce and roasted vegetables in a light vinaigrette. Dean took his first bite, carefully controlling his features to avoid making a face at the rabbit foot, but he couldn't contain a soft grunt of pleased surprise when he tasted it. It was vegetables, obviously, but there was a richness and depth to the flavor from the roasting and the dressing that was delicious, and he cleaned his plate quickly. Usually when Ellen or Sam had insisted on salad with dinner, Dean took a couple bites of ranch-soaked leaves before pushing the rest around on his plate, getting ready for the real food to be served. He washed his last bite down with a drink of water and said, to no one in particular, “I have to say, that’s the best damn plate of vegetables I’ve ever had. If my mom or aunt had made this for me growing up, we’d’ve had fewer battled about me getting my veggies in.”

The elder of the town, a fairy named Jericho sitting at his right hand, beamed with pride “Thank you Sire, we are quite proud of our chefs here. Our entire meal tonight will be vegetarian, and I hope the following courses will please you as much as the first.”

Dean’s smile froze on his face, holding back a grimace at the word “vegetarian.” The first course had been delicious, he was sure he’d like the rest of them too, but he’d always been a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. He thought back to his region reviews with Alfie and remembered that Modell was an agricultural city, known for their growing abilities and that they didn't keep much livestock outside of what was needed for milk or eggs. A vegetarian menu made sense.

“I’m sure I will,” he replied. “I know that Modell is revered for its skill with plants. Speaking of your ways with growing things, this building is amazing, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Jericho puffed up his chest a bit. “Yes, Your Grace, our arbortechs are the best in Eden and highly sought after. In fact, Laith, right here next to me, is our foremost arbortech. He was the one who designed this building, and he has many apprentices working under him to learn the craft.”

Dean looked to the man a couple seats down from Jericho, addressing him. “Pleased to meet you, sir. I’d love to hear about your work, if you’ll give me the time.”

Laith nodded eagerly and bowed awkwardly in his chair. Yes, of course - thank you, your Grace. I would be honored to speak with you.”

“I believe I have some leisure time after dinner,” Dean said, and glanced to Alfie to receive an affirmative nod. “I passed by the library earlier, how about we meet there?”

Laith’s aura was nearly strobing with nerves and excitement. “Yes, your Grace,” he managed to say, trying once again to bow from his chair.

Dean smiled and nodded, then turned to give attention to someone else at the table. He found himself enjoying the meal far more than he had expected, in regards to both food and company. Everyone present was polite and respectful, but there was a spirit of warmth and kindness that washed over Dean, lacking in the strategy and political motivations he had come to expect from these sorts of gatherings in the capital. He asked about the city and the quality of life they had there, asked for stories and anecdotes, and by the end of the meal he was full, happy, and satisfied.

Dean stopped off at his chambers to change into a more casual jacket. He hung his formal one carefully in the wardrobe and headed back out. Quick as he had been, Laith had still beat him there and was waiting in the library when Dean arrived. Dean let him bow and give his formal greeting, then they both sat in comfortable cushioned chairs below a round window that perfectly framed the moon outside it. There was a bottle of fairy wine on the table between them.

Dean dove right in with his questions for the arbortech, eager to understand how things fit together. He understood at a basic level about building things - he could build a car, some of that translated to building, well, buildings - but combining that science with botany and magic to create living architecture was a whole different ball game. Laith told him about coaxing the trees into shape, feeling the purpose of a space and channeling that into their growth. “They want to take care of us,” Laith had said. “We live with the land and the trees in mutual respect. We give them what they need, and they give back.” His face had a dreamy look to it, fingertips trailing along the wood of the windowsill. His aura was a clear, bright blue of calm and serenity, like the surface of a lake.

Dean asked about the mechanics of the shower and found out that there was a sun-heated reservoir in the treetops that fed into the bathing rooms. The grooves on the floor then carried the used water out to the fields to be used for crops. Since all of their soaps were made with things grown on their land or gotten from their animals, there were no chemicals to harm the crops. It was an ingenious system, and Dean told him so. 

“The showers were my wife’s design,” Laith told him, a deeper blue of sadness tingeing his aura. “She had this long, thick, beautiful hair, and was always frustrated that she couldn’t rinse it thoroughly in the bath, so she tinkered and experimented and built and eventually we had a consistent working model. She passed a few years ago. She was amazing - smarter than me by a mile. I could create the buildings, see the big picture, but she thought about how to make life better. Those little details that make things beautiful and useful at the same time.” He sniffed and drained his wine glass, which Dean promptly refilled.

“What was her name?” Dean asked softly, not wanting to break the spell of remembrance.

“Celeste,” Laith answered, wiping at his damp eyes. He huffed out a breath. “Apologies, Sire, you didn’t come here to see an old man weep over the past. What else is it that you’d like to know about the building?”

Dean put his hand on Laith's shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t be sorry. The whole reason I took this trip was to get to know people, and I’m glad I’m getting to know you. Celeste sounds like she was a great woman, to land a guy like you.”

Laith gave him a small, genuine smile. “I was the lucky one, your Grace. She was much better than I deserved. Gave me a beautiful daughter, my Celine. She’s grown up to be as smart and as beautiful as her mother.” His distant, reminiscing look faded away and his gaze sharpened, looking Dean over. “She’s quite the catch, if I may say, Sire. Of marrying age, too. A young king like yourself needs heirs and my Celine-”

“Thank you, Laith,” Dean interrupted him, holding his hands up in defense. “I’m sure that your daughter is lovely, but I’m not looking for a wife. I’m honored that you consider me a worthy candidate,” he continued, mind frantically searching for an escape plan. Just in time, they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

“My Lord Majesty, Master Arbortech,” Cole said, bowing formally. “I apologize for my interruption, but it has gotten quite late, and his Majesty must be up early to visit the orchards.”

Dean stood abruptly, leaving Laith to scramble to his feet as well. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Trenton,” he said to Cole, and then turned to his companion, grasping his hand. “Thank you, Laith, for your time and your story. It was an honor and a pleasure.” As quickly as he could politely manage, Dean strode out of the library.

“Thanks for the save,” he said to Cole, who was walking a step behind him. “He’s a good man, I hate when I have to tell people I’m not interested in marrying their - insert young female relative here - when they bring it up. Like the only requirement for me to pursue a relationship is the fact that it’s a girl who’s single and of marrying age.” Dean sighed in frustration and glanced sideways at Cole. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t need to be dumping this on you. Outside your job description.”

Cole made no answer as they continued to Dean’s chambers. Dean felt like his strings had been cut as he walked through the door. He was suddenly and thoroughly exhausted, and for once was happy to let Cole remove his coat for him before slumping into a chair to have his boots removed as well.

“Perhaps Sire,” Cole said quietly from where he knelt on the floor, a slight tremor in his voice that Dean was too tired to notice. “Is the reason you don’t want to meet his daughter, or any of the young ladies presented to you, because it’s not a woman at all that you want a relationship with?”

“Mmm,” Dean made a noise of affirmation. He had his head tilted back against the chair and his eyes closed. “That’s exactly right,” he mumbled tiredly. “I used to love the ladies, they just aren’t-” his sentence broke off around a yawn. “They just aren’t doing it for me anymore.” He was still slumped comfortably in the chair and was trying to muster up the energy to get his ass over to the bed when he was startled by the press of a pair of lips against his own. His whole body tensed up and his eyes were wide as Cole slowly drew back.

“Um,” Dean said. 

Cole’s face went stark white, and Dean could practically taste the terror rolling off him. “Your Grace,” he whispered, barely audible. His mouth opened and shut a couple times, but he couldn’t manage to say anything else. It was up to Dean to handle the situation. 

“Um,” is what he came up with.

Before he could get his tired, clumsy brain working on any sort of response that could be considered appropriate, he was alone in the room. Cole’s panic had caused him to Travel elsewhere. Who knows where the guy had ended up.

“Shit,” Dean sighed out to the empty room. “Things were easier when he just hated me.” He was too tired to process this. He heaved himself out of the chair and crawled into bed. He’d hunt down Cole tomorrow and straighten things out, once Cole had a chance to collect himself. For now, Dean drifted to sleep quickly, thinking of dark hair and galaxy wings.

~~~


	5. Modell

When Dean woke the next morning with warm sunlight on his face, he was alone in his room and surprised that he didn’t have a grumpy valet bullying him out of bed. He checked the small adjoining chamber, but it was empty too. 

_Oh yeah, the… incident._

Dean didn’t know when (or if) Cole was going to return, so he dressed as neatly as he could without help and made his way to the dining hall for breakfast. He was joined in the hallway by his waiting guards, who stayed at his sides through the building. He didn’t mention Cole’s absence. He knew why the guy had left and understood; even if Dean wasn’t offended or upset, he could imagine that Cole had been scared shitless. Dean hoped that after a little time to freak out about it, Cole would calm down and come back. He could summon him, Alfie had the necessary papers to direct a message right to the back of Cole’s mind and encourage his return, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of anything and he didn’t want anyone else to know what had happened, to spare Cole embarrassment and unwarranted punishment over a little misunderstanding.

Once Dean left the Town Hall and got out into the city, he had a great day. He met merchants and farmers, parents and children. He sampled local cuisine and tasted an excellent wine that even his unrefined palate could tell was special, and requested a case sent to the castle. A gangly young boy demonstrated milking a cow, and everyone gathered was delighted to see Dean settle on the short stool and try it himself, even if he didn’t get more than a few sputtering drops.

He visited the school of the arborists and Dean saw a young girl singing to a rose bush, coaxing it to bloom. When bright pink petals started bursting forth her face and aura lit up with joy and pride in her accomplishment. She startled at the sound of Dean’s applause, and her pale pink wings fluttered nervously.

“That was amazing,” Dean told her, crouching down to sit on his heels so they were face to face. “What’s your name?”

The girl kept her eyes on the round in front of her, but dipped into a graceful curtsey as she answered. “Arden,” she said in a whisper.

“Well Arden, thank you for showing me your amazing talent.” He rummaged in his pocket for a moment and came out with a delicately braided leather cord, soft pink in color. He held it up gesturing towards the girl’s wrist. “To match your wings. May I?”

Arden nodded mutely with wide eyes and held out her hand for Dean to tie the bracelet on. “Thank you, Sire,” she said, awe in her tone, and made another curtsey. 

Dean smiled, touching her shoulder briefly, before standing up and continuing along his tour.

The day passed quickly, and even though Dean was exhausted when he made it back to the Town Hall in the evening, he couldn’t stop smiling. _This_ , he thought. _This is what I’ve been missing._ He felt more connected to the fairies of Eden than ever before. Eden had felt like home since he first stepped foot there, but he’d still been alone, apart. A home without a family. The people he’d encountered on the road so far had been welcoming beyond anything he could've hoped for.

Dean entered his chambers to find his room empty, but with light spilling in from the slightly-ajar door to Cole’s room. Dean walked straight towards the bar of light, pushing the door open quietly. He found neatly packed trunks and Cole, fully dressed for travel, sitting rigidly on the small cushioned chair in the room.

“Cole? What is this?”

Cole startled at the sound of Dean’s voice. He stood and bowed, deeply and formally, before addressing Dean’s boots. “Your Majesty, I wish to humbly and sincerely apologize for my actions. They were inappropriate and offensive, though I assure you that no offense was intended. If you will accept my resignation, I will return to the capitol and send along a replacement valet as soon as possible, to join your party in Solime.”

Dean gaped. “What? No.”

A look of resignation passed over Cole’s features and he continued, eyes still on the floor. “Furthermore, I understand if you feel that I require punishment. I will not resist arrest or deny my guilt, and I am prepared to accept the consequences for my disrespect towards your Majesty.”

“ _What_? No!” This was getting ridiculous. “Listen man, I’m not arresting you, you’re not in any trouble, and I don’t accept your resignation.”

Cole took a breath and started what was sure to be another rehearsed statement, but Dean stopped him with a halting hand gesture. “You were right, I’m not looking for a wife because I want a guy, but it’s just one specific guy, so I’m not available for either team. I wasn’t offended by your - um - advances, just surprised. If I weren’t hung up on Ca- on a certain someone, they probably would’ve been welcomed.

“I want you to stay on as my valet. If you don’t want to be here I won’t force you to stay, but I want to make it clear that we can put the kissing thing behind us and continue on as usual. I’m not going to hold anything against you.”

Cole shifted nervously and risked a glance at Dean’s face. He must’ve seen that Dean was being sincere, and he bowed deeply in response. “Your Grace, thank you. Once again you’ve shown me kindness when you had every reason not to. I will remain as your valet if it pleases your Majesty.”

Dean nodded with finality, closing the conversation. “Good. We have breakfast with Elder Jericho tomorrow and then we hit the road, so get some rest.”

Cole didn’t point out that he knew the schedule as well as Dean, if not better, he just bowed once again and said, “yes, Sire.”

Dean stepped back into his own room, closing Cole’s door behind him. He dressed for bed and let out a relieved sigh, feeling glad that this strange bubble of tension and misunderstanding that had been between him and his valet had been resolved. He was ready for a new day, for a new city and new people. Though this overly formal and gracious Cole was a little much, they still had some work to do to find a working balance.

He laid in the nest and thought of Castiel, of all the things he wanted to tell him, to share with him. Dean making an ass of himself because he didn’t know how to use the shower, little Arden making roses bloom, the love that Laith had for his wife. Dean was so honored to see this side of Eden, to have his subjects sharing bits of their lives with him. 

After this tour was over, once he learned his lands and his people and returned to the capitol, Dean would call Cas back to him. He needed to do this, to be a real, tangible presence in the kingdom instead of some abstract idea of a king. It was especially important to Dean to establish himself on his own merits so he could choose the person he wanted to be with, and avoid having to enter into a political marriage to solidify his position. Castiel wouldn’t hold a grudge if Dean did choose to make a strategic marriage, the self-sacrificing bastard, but while Dean did want to honor the culture and tradition of Eden, he wasn’t interested in slipping into outdated, unhappy customs he didn’t agree with, and a loveless marriage was one of those that he was happy to do away with. 

Dean was feeling good about how the citizens of Eden were receiving him. Maybe he and Cas could meet up sooner than planned, and Castiel could be part of his guard for the second half of the tour. Dean was sure that Balthazar wouldn’t mind. The problem was getting Cas away from the front lines. It seemed that as soon as Castiel and his garrison neutralized or discredited a threat, they’d be off again chasing a new tip. It was an ongoing string of wild goose chases. They needed a good, permanent solution to the uprisings, and Dean’s tour was that solution. So all he could do at this point was what he was doing, and hope that it would be enough to quell any discord. The sooner he won over Eden, the sooner he’d get Cas back.


	6. Dean Spills Feelings Everywhere

The next stop on Dean’s tour was a nearby town called Solime. It was about a day away, so they left first thing in the morning so they could arrive for a late dinner. Cole spent as much time as possible atop the carriage, seated next to the driver in the open air. Dean may have given his forgiveness, but Cole’s embarrassment over the whole thing was making the guy jumpy. Dean had come to expect silence from his valet, but where it had previously been sullen and almost aggressively disapproving, now it was meek and nervous. Cole was withdrawing so close into himself that his aura was growing faint and wispy, to the point where Dean almost couldn’t see it, save for a few sharp edges here and there, bright bursts of escaping color that were reined back in immediately. Dean knew there really wasn’t anything he could do except give him time to recalibrate. Rejection was never fun, and their difference in station made it that much more awkward. Their interactions had been running hot and cold since they met, and Dean was hoping they’d reach an equilibrium soon. 

As they were loading up in the morning, Alfie mumbled something about provisions and rode near the back with the supply wagons. Dean tried to strike up conversations with Balthazar and Ezekiel, but they were both otherwise occupied, so he was left alone in the carriage. He read a bit, he wove some bracelets and necklaces, playing around with various colors and patterns, and he made a sizeable dent in his pie inventory.

Finally, in late afternoon when he’d exhausted all other forms of entertainment, he cracked open the leather folio with information on Solime. He wanted to know about the town and refresh the information they’d covered in meetings, but Alfie’s writing tended to be really dry and difficult to get through. His exacting attention to detail - down to the most mundane things - made him a great secretary, but a crap storyteller.

Solime was a fishing town, nestled in the bend of a river. Dean mentally braced himself for seafood dishes - why anyone would eat fish when cows existed was beyond him. But hey, he was Dean Winchester. He ate spaghetti with marshmallows, he could damn well smile his way through some fish. They only had one full day in Solime, which he was thankful for. 

~~~

Dean was expecting a densely forested town like Modell had been, but when they arrived in the late evening he found it was as different from Modell as Modell had been from the capitol. Solime consisted of a seamless river landscape; the structures were low and mound-shaped, reminiscent of beaver dams. He could see, by the soft glow of lanterns along the roadway, fishing nets and baskets on frames outside of homes, prepped and ready to be taken out at first light.

There was no big ceremony upon his arrival, seeing as most of the village kept very early hours. There was just a small welcoming party to feed them a simple, late dinner and see them to their rooms to rest for the early morning ahead of them. Dean filled up on bread as much as he could before the main course and washed down every other bite of fish with a sip of wine. His limbs felt loose and heavy by the end of the meal, and he nearly fell out of the hammock in his room. Once he managed to climb in, he found it amazingly comfortable and dropped off immediately.

The next day was a lot of fun - Dean ate the last of Ellen’s pies for breakfast, and there was a large gathering in the open air of the Town Square in the late afternoon, after the fishermen had returned from their work. There were long tables with benches where one could eat, an open area with a band where lively dancing was taking place, and a row of small booths where villagers had their goods on display. Dean looked over everything politely, trying to ask questions and engage with the fairies.

He stopped at one booth manned by a young boy and his bored-looking older sister. The table was filled with trays of shells and beads. The little boy, Jonah, told Dean that he had collected the shells himself from the riverbank, picking through the mud and silt, and then carefully cleaned and polished them. Jonah went on to say that his sister, Arista, was apprenticing with their father the glassblower. The beads were her work. Dean complimented them both, and then bought out their whole table. Jonah was ecstatic, his voice high and excited with thanks, and Arista blushed as she packaged everything up for him. He paid them well above their asking price, and then gave them each a leather bracelet. 

“My next ones will be much better now that I have your pieces to weave into them.” He winked and smiled, and moved on to observe the rest of the festival. He barely held it together while he was talking to the fisherman at the booth full of fish with their heads and eyes still attached, just staring up at him, dead and glossy and fishy. He focused all his attention on maintaining eye contact, and left as soon as he politely could. He made it through the rest of the day with minimal seafood ingestion, filling his plate with as many grain and vegetable dishes as he could manage without garnering unusual notice. He knew that Alfie noticed, and maybe Cole, but nobody called him out on it, and that was the important part.

~~~

They continued on their tour through Eden, sometimes stopping in a new town every other day, and sometimes spending several days on the road between stops. Mostly, everyone was happy and excited to meet Dean, but he further from the capitol they went, the more often Dean noticed pockets of distrust or unease among the citizens. He kept smiling and engaging and talking, maintaining his open, friendly and regal demeanor. Putting all of his considerable Winchester charm to good use.

Two months into the tour he was almost glad to hear Alfie tell him they’d be traveling for five days this time. Dean was ready to forego a real bed at night if he could have a break from being paraded around like a dancing monkey. 

The next top was a city called Lerwick, the second biggest city in Eden, behind the capitol. It bordered the river on one side and was fairly central, which made it the main hub for trade routes throughout the kingdom. This stop had the most pressure for Dean - there were groups of people who had been made rich by Zachariah’s workings, and who would love to see Lucifer on the throne for the sake of their wallets. 

Cole was still quiet and reserved, remaining nearly invisible in his duties. Dean took the much-needed break from socialization as they traveled, and Balthazar and Ezekiel grew more and more tense. Even Alfie seemed to be feeling the pressure, double and triple-checking his notes and lists and schedules unable to sit still for any length of time before the thought of another task to run off and take care of had him bounding out of his seat again. The agitation of his people was wearing on Dean. As useful as it was to be an empath, it was also draining. Dean started to have strange dreams, just bursts of colors and adrenaline that he couldn’t figure out, but that left him gasping awake, looking for a threat. Finally, on the fourth day on the road to Lerwick, Cole broke his silence.

“Sire,” he ventured quietly, pulling aside the flap of Dean’s large tent. “I was wondering if you might be willing to teach me one of your card games. We are camped for a full day, it won’t do for you to spend the whole time pacing.”

Dean stopped mid-pivot, just as he was about to continue his stride across the floor. He squinted at Cole, taking in the stiff, tense set of his shoulders and wings, and the stormy, sputtering waves of his aura. “Am I projecting?” Dean asked, more sharply than he meant the words to come out.

Cole cut his eyes to the side, hesitating. “Perhaps a bit, your Grace,” he answered carefully. “I know you’re taking in the stress of the camp, and it seems that you may be… overflowing, as it were.”

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. He closed his eyes, counted to three, and looked back at Cole. “Have you ever played poker?”

~~~

Cole’s diversion tactic worked, and by dinnertime the camp had settled into a more relaxed mood. Everyone was still alert, but without the prickling negative tension. Dean ate and managed to fall into a dreamless sleep after only an hour or so of tossing and turning. 

The next morning was an early one, on the road for a day of travel, arriving in Lerwick by evening for a full week in the city. The games of cards with Cole had been a helpful distraction, but as they traveled on, everyone was on edge, and it was grating on Dean, taking all of his concentration not to overflow and let his tension, frustration, and fear pour out over everyone else in the camp.

He closed his eyes and tried to meditate, thinking of Cas talking him through it. He drifted a bit, letting the sway of the carriage and the imagined deep timbre roll over him, and he welcomed the calm that it carried with it. He felt like he could sense Castiel there with him, near and warm. He felt a brush of fingertips along his cheekbone, a whisper of breath across his lips. The lightest touches, barely there, but very real. 

A heavy hand clasped his shoulder and Dean startled, jumping high enough to dislodge Cole’s grip. 

“Apologies, Sire,” the valet said, leaning back and putting his hands up. “We’ve arrived.”

Alfie was watching him with an odd, blank expression that Dean couldn't figure out. Dean sighed and shook off the phantom of Castiel, steeling himself for political warfare.

Lerwick was strangely familiar to Dean. It looked a lot more like the human realm, if a while outdated, than anything he’d seen in Eden so far. If he could overlook the colorful wings everywhere, it was a normal town. There were stone buildings with clean lines and cobbled roads, busy with fairies milling about, even at the late evening hour. Their party wove through a maze of roads towards the center of the city before arriving at the Tower. If Lerwick was the trading hub of Eden, the Tower was the engine.

For most the other stops, towns were scrambling to provide Dean with their best accommodations and often times updating rooms or homes just for his visit, so that they smelled of sawdust and paint when he arrived. Lerwick had a royal residence, so the top several floors of the Tower were exclusively his. From Dean’s understanding, Zachariah spent the majority of his time living in Lerwick, avoiding the capitol. It made sense, Dean supposed, because the citizens of the capitol were mostly loyal to the Campbell line, and that city was steeped in tradition. Lerwick was where the money was, and the greed of the traders there was easy enough for Zachariah to swing to his side. 

Because it had been his primary residence during Zachariah’s rule, the Tower’s royal floors were outrageously gaudy to suit his tastes. White walls trimmed in gold, chandeliers dripping with crystals, golden statues of fairies in battle, large paintings with complex, gilded frames, and intricate tapestries and rugs. Dean hadn’t known that rooms could say “smug, self-important asshole,” but there it was. 

He didn’t have time to object to the lodgings - he barely made it into the outer sitting room before he was rushed into formal dinner clothes, a circlet of hammered rose gold and quartz placed on his head, and brought downstairs to a grand dining room with a huge table. More white and gold design dominated the room, with a pair of towering fireplaces at either end. Every seat was filled, and the guests all stood upon his arrival. Dean took a moment to process the sensory input. Flickering light from the fireplaces and the candles on the table reflected off of a variety of wings, clothing, and jewelry, which was a lot to take in on its own, but the swirling auras and slippery, oily feel of the room almost overwhelmed him. He hadn't been off the mark when he’d thought of this as warfare. The circlet - it had to have been a Campbell relic - enhanced his perceptions like the scepter and orb had so many months ago and it almost felt like he could read minds.

The party was too large to go through introductions for everyone in the room, so they did more of a formal presentation of Dean to the gathered fairies. 

The herald ( _herald!_ ) boomed his announcement to the room. “Presenting His Royal Highness, King Dean Winchester of the Campbell line, first of his name, sovereign ruler of these lands, Lord of Eden.”

Everyone bowed or curtsied, and took their seats once Dean sat down. Thankfully, he didn’t have to make a speech at the moment, that was scheduled for the following day in the throne room. A hushed murmur broke out in the room, the guests whispering amongst themselves, as servants appeared from side doors with the first dish. 

Dean was busy trying to read auras and determine intentions without letting the emotions of the room bowl him over, so when he reached for his fork to start on the small salad that had been placed in front of him, he was confused when his hand met bare tablecloth. He _knew_ he had seen a fork there…

He startled when a hand (that was not his hand), holding _his fork_ , reached in front of him to spear a bite of salad, and turned to find Cole at his elbow. Cole kept a straight face, just the slightest crinkle around his eyes betraying his amusement at Dean’s confusion as he brought the fork to his lips and ate the bite. Dean wasn’t used to seeing Cole as these formal dinners - he wasn’t ranked high enough to attend and ate with the staff - and his actions seemed a gross breach of etiquette, even for Dean’s casual tendencies. 

Once Cole had finished the bite of salad, he stood quietly for a moment. “What the hell?” Dean hissed in a whisper, with no response from Cole except a small twitch at the corner of his mouth, a smile quickly erased.

Cole reached for Dean’s goblet and took a sip of his wine. After a few moments where Cole seemed to be waiting for something and Dean tried his hardest to convey “what the hell are you doing here, hey that’s my food, I mean if you’re hungry I can tell them to make you a plate, everyone can see you, what the _fuck_ ,” with his eyes, Cole took half a step back and leaned forward slightly to speak into Dean’s ear.

“Your food is clear, Sire. No poison. Enjoy your first course.” He retreated to sit in a chair against the wall, presumably waiting for the next course to be served so he could _check it for poison, what the actual fuck_.

Nobody else in the room seemed at all surprised or put off by Cole’s actions, which meant that Dean was the only one who didn’t know about this, which meant that Cole probably didn't tell him on purpose - maybe even got Alfie to withhold this key information - just to mess with him. Dean wanted to be annoyed, but he had to admit that it was a damn good prank. He could feel smug amusement coming from Cole’s seat behind him, and it helped him relax just a bit, knowing at least someone was on his side in this shark tank. That someone might have been laughing at Dean’s expense, but the familiarity was something Dean desperately needed at the moment.

The dinner was still stressful; Dean had to make polite conversation and maintain all appearances of a proper, genial ruler while he kept half his attention on the auras and moods of the room, and had to work out which emotions were his own and which ones were being projected onto him by others. Managing a sudden flash of disgust or white-hot anger while keeping up a smile and a conversation was taking up all of the mental power Dean had at his disposal. If he had been on edge before, the pending threat of poison, hovering behind his shoulder in the form of Cole tasting his food each course and sipping his wine every time his glass was replenished, had Dean strung tight, dangerously close to snapping. Somehow, he managed to make it through dessert without incident, and Cole remained healthy and whole.

_One meal down, a week left to endure._ Dean hoped like hell he’d be able to get some important players on his side, but he wasn’t feeling optimistic at the moment. The royal quarters were pretty well removed from the rest of the Tower - Zachariah took the idea of “high and mighty” quite literally - and Dean thought that he’d have enough distance to be able to catch some sleep without the emotions of others invading his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that this story is tagged as Destiel and Cas still isn't here but he'll get here, ok? We gotta see Dean learning to be king first. These are his montage chapters.


	7. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean redecorates and finds out who is on his side and who isn't.

After the single most stressful meal of his life, Dean was escorted back to the private royal rooms with the bulk of his guard surrounding him. Balthazar made him wait in the hallway with Ezekiel while he cleared Dean’s chambers, which didn’t help Dean’s pissed off mood. While Balthazar was making his inspection, Ezekiel was talking to Dean. 

“Alright your Majesty, we’ll have two guards stationed here in the hallway at all times. You saw the sitting room earlier - off of that is your bedroom, a bathing room, and two smaller chambers for your valet and your secretary. All of these rooms can only be accessed through the sitting room, which can only be accessed from this hallway. The only exception is a small emergency stairwell hidden off your bedchamber. Only your immediate staff will have access to your quarters, unless you give specific instructions otherwise. 

“Furthermore, Balthazar or myself will be in the sitting room just outside your bedchamber on alternating shifts. If someone manages to make it through this door, we’ll have enough notice to ensure your safety and get you out the back way.”

Dean wanted to make a joke about overkill, or maybe about how that had been the single longest chunk of speech he’d ever heard from the serious guard captain, but the tense anxiety his guards were radiating, along with the migraine brewing behind his eyes from the stress of dinner, stopped him. Even Balthazar, who was deceptively laid back most of the time, was closed off and focused when he appeared in the doorway. 

“Sire,” he said with no hint of the relaxed smirk he usually wore. “Your chambers are clear. I'll be in the sitting room for the first shift. Your washroom is within the chambers so there should be no reason to leave, but you are not to go _anywhere_ outside these rooms without an escort, yes?”

“Bal, I’m not a child, you know.”

Balthazar didn’t physically roll his eyes, but Dean saw the sentiment in his aura.

“Alright,” Dean sighed. “Don’t go anywhere without a babysitter. I've got it. If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna wash up and go to bed, in case you want to follow me into the bathroom.”

Balthazar didn’t rise to Dean’s curt tone, just nodded to his men, and they moved to make preparations for the overnight shift.

“They’ve a kettle in the washroom here, I’ll start your bath, Sire,” Cole said, but Dean stopped him.

“No bath, I’d just fall asleep in there. I’ll be fine with a bowl of warm water. Could you please lay out my night clothes in my room? You can just leave them and head to bed yourself.”

Cole bowed an affirmative, and Dean went to the washroom and closed the door.

He was wrung out; the mental and emotional energy he’d spent that evening had exhausted him, and he swayed a bit on his feet as he made his way across the large, gleaming white room to the stove that held a hot kettle, and the small carved table next to it with a golden bowl half-filled with cool water. He poured steaming water from the kettle into the bowl until it was comfortably warm, and he used a plush washcloth taken from a neatly folded stack on a nearby shelf to scrub off some of the oily wrongness of this place. With his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, he washed his hands and face, and ended up going through several cloths when they kept coming back brown and grimy from his travel. He splashed water on the back of his neck, scrubbing under his collar, and ran his wet hands through his hair to leave it spiked up and fluffy.

This royalty thing. Every time he thought he’d found his footing, another obstacle was thrown in his path. He had been doing well on this tour, creating real, meaningful connections with his subjects, making a name for himself as King Winchester instead of just being the Campbell heir. He stared at the circlet resting on the table next to the bowl of water. He could do this. He had to, what other option was there? There wasn’t anyone better, and if Dean stepped down because of his insecurities about his worthiness to rule, someone who cared about influence and control more than the kingdom would step in with no qualms about seizing that power for themselves. If there was any hope of keeping Zachariah or Lucifer off the throne, it rested with Dean. He was fighting for his hold as it was, and he had as strong a claim as it was possible to have. If he tried to allow someone else to step in, they’d be unseated in a week.

Dean picked up the circlet, holding it loosely in his hand as he stepped out of the washroom. Balthazar was standing next to the door to his bedroom at rest, one hand on his Eden blade at his hip with deliberate casualness.

Dean paused on his way to bed and put his hand on Balthazar’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Bal,” he said. “I know you’re doing your job, and I appreciate it, really I do. Dinner was… trying, and this is going to be a tough week on all of us. I shouldn’t take it out on one of the few people in this place who are on my side.”

Balthazar’s stance didn’t change at all, but Dean saw relief and calm flood his aura. “No need to apologize, your Grace. Have a good night, and I’ll be here.”

Dean gave his shoulder a squeeze before dropping his hand and going into his bedroom. He sighed when he saw that this room had Zachariah’s particular interior design preferences, same as the rest of the royal floors. The bed was buried under a mountain of white and gold throw pillows, the bed posts were gold and intricately carved, and worst of all was a massive painting of Zachariah and Naomi, wearing pristine white robes, their wings painted with far more color and beauty than they had in real life. Dean looked at the huge gleaming gold crown set with diamonds and opals that Zachariah wore in the painting, and then down at his own simple circlet. His disgust with Zachariah, always a simmering pool of distaste in the back of his mind, boiled over, and any sense of exhaustion he’d felt walking into the chambers vanished. There was no way he’d be able to rest, to sleep, with that smug, paunchy, _stupid_ face anywhere near him. He set down his circlet and grabbed the painting, heaving it with its massive gold frame off the wall and dumping it into a nook, next to an ugly vase on a pedestal. 

At the noise of the heavy painting thumping to the floor and rattling the vase, Balthazar burst into the room with his blade drawn. Dean turned and put his hands up. “Hey, sorry, that was me. I’m just doing a little redecorating.”

Balthazar looked from dean to the painting, and then wept his eyes over the rest of the room. One eyebrow arched up. “Would your Highness be needing any help?” 

~~~

An hour later, the main sitting room was clogged with everything that Dean and Balthazar had stripped from the bedchamber. Pillows, curtains, paintings, vases, bowls, sculptures, and other odds and ends were all piled against the wall behind the couch. Dean’s bedroom seemed bare and sterile with all of the empty whiteness, and there was nothing to be done at the moment about the ridiculous bed frame, but Dean felt better for seeing a tangible difference made to separate himself from Zachariah, even if it was in just one room in that nightmare of a tower. 

Tired and more at peace than he’d been since their arrival in Lerwick, Dean fell asleep quickly. He planned on making some changes in Lerwick, much more drastic than decor. It was time for him to step up and lead - he’d been following the itinerary laid out for him so far on his tour, but if he was in danger here, he figured he may as well make the risk worth it. They wanted to hate him? He’d give them a reason. He wouldn’t be playing defense and trying to keep up with the tides of Lerwick, keeping his head above water trying to play by their rules. He was going to overturn the board like a tidal wave or… something. He was mixing metaphors. He’d sort it out in the morning.

~~~

Dean was sleeping soundly when a sharp jab of surprise and fear shot up his spine. He woke up disoriented, and looked around the dark room. Blue moonlight from the window made stark shadows on the white angles of the room, and he couldn’t see anything out of place. He listened with ears straining, but heard nothing. He decided to go check in with Ezekiel, who had taken over Balthazar’s post just before Dean went to sleep. 

Dean had one foot on the floor when he heard the jiggle of his door handle. He moved quickly into the darkened nook that used to hold the hideous vase, and concealed his wings so they wouldn't catch the moonlight and give away his position. 

The door opened a crack, and Dean saw the glint of an Eden blade as the intruder came in. Dean was unarmed and trying to figure out how to get to the hidden stairwell at the opposite corner of the room when he recognized the person holding the blade. 

“Alfie?” Dean stepped out of his hiding place. “What's going on?” If there was a threat, Ezekiel should be in here with him. It didn’t make sense for his secretary to be here, especially not with a blade. 

Alfie jumped at the sound of Dean’s voice and at the sudden burst of color as his wings manifested again. But instead of the explanation that he was expecting, Dean found himself at the point of Alfie’s blade.

“What the hell-” Dean began, but cut off when he noticed Alfie’s aura. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he’d never been able to get a read on Alfie - he’d always been blank. Alfie was a pretty bland guy, Dean figured he just didn’t have much going on behind the lists and charts and schedules. Boy, had he been wrong. Alfie’s aura was sputtering red and black, then vanishing back into the emptiness Dean was used to seeing. 

“Alfie, hey man,” he tried to placate the skinny fairy. “It seems like you’re glitching or something, just put the blade down, we can figure things out.”

Alfie was sweating and shaking, his face contorted so he looked like he was in pain, or holding something back. All at once the roiling red and black aura burst out full force, and Alfie’s face smoothed. He spoke, mechanically.

“You are to call me Samandriel, imposter. In the name of the true king, Zachariah, and his heir Lucifer, you are found unworthy of your claim. You must die so that order can be restored.”

Alfie gasped as he ended his speech, and the violent red aura blinked out. His eyes were wide and afraid, and he stared at Dean over his shaking hands that still held the blade. “Your Majesty,” he whispered, forcing the words out. “I’m so sorr-” His sentence cut off as the red glow engulfed him once again. His face was blank and he advanced on Dean with the blade raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short chapter, but another one is coming right away!!


	8. Knight in Shining Moonlight

Dean threw his arm up to block Alfie’s attack, and his eyes closed as he braced for impact. Instead of the pain he expected, he heard the sharp clang of metal on metal. He opened his eyes to figure out whether he was in the afterlife or somehow escaped maiming and death and saw - darkness. More specifically, a dark shield of wings in front of him There was only one fairy with wings like those.

“Cas?”

“Hello Dean,” Cas grunted over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked, stunned. 

“If we could maybe-” Castiel grappled with Alfie, pushing him back and away from Dean. “Discuss this later? I’m a bit preoccupied.”

_Oh right, the whole assassination thing_ , Dean thought, and had to shove down a hysterical laugh at the absurdity of his current situation. “Don’t kill him,” he told Castiel. “It’s not him, he’s being controlled or something.”

Castiel made a noise of acknowledgment and returned his focus to subduing the secretary. Alfie didn’t seem to even know that Castiel was there, all of his attention was on Dean; the experienced soldier he was fighting was just an unknown obstacle between him and his target. He was mechanically and relentlessly moving forward. Dean couldn’t even help by sneaking away, all he could do was stand behind Castiel and hold Alfie’s attention, useless and vulnerable while Castiel risked himself. 

The struggle continued for a few long minutes until Dean heard a hollow thunk and Alfie slumped into Castiel’s arms, unconscious. Cole was standing behind him, holding the ugly vase, which he’d used to knock Alfie out.

“There’s a back exit,” Dean said. “A hidden stairwell-”

“No,” Cole interrupted him. “Alfie knew about that, which means that whoever is behind this knows. They’re sure to expect you to take that route.” He was throwing clothes into a bag, thrusting various garments at Dean, who put his arms out automatically to hold them. “I have another way out that nobody else knows of. You two need to get out, and we don't know who we can trust. Balthazar was drugged and is unconscious, along with the two guards posted in the hallway. Ezekiel is injured. Samandriel was alone for now, probably in the hopes to get the job done quietly, but you need to be gone before more show up.”

While Cole was talking, Castiel had bound Alfie’s hands and feet, tucking the second Eden blade into his belt. He glanced at Dean, a lightning-quick cut of blue eyes. “Sire, may I suggest you dress for travel? Mr. Trenton is right, we need to leave quickly.”

Dean sprang into action, pulling on the clothes that he’d been holding dumbly in his arms. They were finely made, as all of his wardrobe was, but solid brown and lacking any adornments or embroidery. Once he was dressed, feet shoved into boots and a cloak thrown on, Castiel handed him the blade Alfie had been carrying. “I believe this is yours, Sire. He must have taken it from your things.”

Dean took it and vanished it, along with his wings, to wait for him to conjure it forth when it was needed. Cole tied the bag shut and held it out, and Castiel shouldered it before Dean had the chance to even reach for it. There was no time to protest, Cole was rushing out into the sitting room with Castiel right behind him. Dean stared wide-eyed at Ezekiel, who was slumped on the floor, holding a red-stained wad of cloth to his side. 

“I’ll be alright, your Majesty,” he gasped out with effort. “Go, you must go.” 

Still, Dean was unable to move until an urgent hand on his arm broke his focus on Ezekiel. “Your Grace,” Cole said. “He will be tended to. You have my word.”

They went into Cole’s small valet’s chamber, and Cole pushed aside the wardrobe to reveal a section of wall that seemed to… shimmer. “This will take you just outside of Lerwick. By the time they widen the search radius that far you’ll be long gone. Since this is an established portal and not your own Traveling magic, they won’t be able to track you. Go, I need to conceal this. If they find this portal, they’ll find you.”

“How do _you_ know about it?” Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes at Cole.

Cole looked anxiously at the door to the sitting room, to the Travel portal, and back to Castiel. He spoke in a rush. “My mother was Liddy Walsh. She wasn’t high up enough in the household to be purged by Zachariah, and I grew up here in Lerwick. My mother was a chambermaid, she helped fairies under threat from Zachariah or Naomi escape, and used her ability to move freely through the castle to help them escape from here.”

“The Angel of the Tower,” Castiel said with awe in his voice. “I never knew her identity.”

“She was found out and killed,” Cole said shortly. “You know of her, do you know the way to find a trail of hers?” Castiel nodded. “There is one of her trails still active, it will lead you to a safe house.”

There was a loud creaking thump from the sitting room, people trying to get through the door. “ _Go_ ,” Cole said, beseechingly. “You must go now. I’ll handle things on this end, as much as I can. It comes in handy at times, being a clueless valet.” 

Castiel stepped into the portal. Dean clasped Cole’s forearm for a moment. “Thank you, truly. I won’t forget this.”

He followed Castiel through the not-solid wall and stepped out into a forest. Castiel was looking around, eyes sharp and scanning. After a few moments of tense silence, Dean tried, “Cas-”

“This way,” Castiel cut him off, and slipped between two trees, onto a small deer trail. 

“But Cas,” Dean tried again, scrambling after him. He had so many questions.

“Your Majesty, please follow me and stay close. We should be able to reach the safe house in a few hours.”

Dean snapped. He reached out and grabbed Castiel’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “Hey,” he growled, pissed off. “It’s me, Cas. Don’t give me that ‘your Majesty’ bullshit. _Look at me_ ,” a thread of desperation leaked into his voice at the end, and he cursed the show of weakness.

Castiel hesitated, and slowly turned to look Dean in the eye. Dean stared for a moment, lost in the achingly familiar blue. “What the hell is going on, man?”

“Dean,” Castiel said. It seemed the word was painful to get out, cutting and grinding as it went. “I’ll explain the best I can, but we have to move right now. Let's get to the safe house, get some rest, and I’ll tell you everything when we don’t have to be looking over our shoulders.”

Dean nodded, agreeing to the delay, and moved his hand down to grasp Castiel’s. The fairy turned to continue walking, his galaxy wings shimmering in the moonlight, but Dean pulled him back quickly. “Wait,” he said, and crushed his mouth to Castiel’s, the hand that wasn’t already holding onto him coming up to cradle the back of his head. The kiss was hard and urgent, but short-lived. Dean broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Castiel’s.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he said, embarrassed at the way his voice shook.

Castiel leaned in for a quick, fierce kiss in return. “I missed you too, Dean. I’m so sorry. About everything. We have to go.”

This time, when Castiel pulled away, Dean let him go. He followed closely, still tethered by their joined hands. Castiel led them through the forest, confident on a trail that Dean couldn’t see. Every now and then he’d see a slight glow in a bush, or feel the pull of power from a tree. It was a good thing they had the faint magical signature to follow, because once they stepped into the trees and out of the small clearing where the portal was it was pitch black, the thick tree coverage blocking out any light from the moon. The longer they walked, the better Dean was able to sense the trail they were following, and the fewer stumbles he had.

The forest was just lightening with the coming dawn when they reached a clearing that had a small one room cabin. The rotted door protested loudly at being pushed open, and they found the inside empty and abandoned, with vines growing up most of the vertical surfaces. There were nests and burrows tucked away in almost every nook and cranny.

“This is the safe house?” Dean asked, looking around. “It’s just forest with a roof. Whatever, as long as nothing bites me while I sleep I’m too tired to care. I’m gonna go find an unoccupied corner to crash in.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Castiel said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Come with me.”

He went to the back wall and pushed aside a section of vines. He said, “excuse me,” to a small mouse that he’d dislodged, like he was a goddamn Disney princess, and started a low chant under his breath. Dean saw runes on the wall appear with a soft blue glow as the chanting continued. Castiel conjured his Eden blade and pricked his finger to smear a bit of blood over the glowing symbols. A shimmer rippled over the wall, reminding Dean of the portal they’d used to escape the Tower. They stepped through.

Dean was surprised - though he supposed he should’ve have been - to find himself in a spacious, comfortable treehouse, similar in structure to what he’d seen in the capitol and Modell. It had been empty for a long time, there was a sense of staleness in the air, but it was furnished, stocked with provisions, and free of any critters. 

Dean almost cried when he found a shower room. He used the cool water to scrub away the dirt and grime of their trek through the forest, the water running brown and cloudy along the ridges in the floor. He found soft pants and a shirt in the shower room, and pulled them on with a sigh. He left his dirty travel clothes in a heap on the floor to deal with later and shuffled into the next room, where he nearly collapsed with relief at the sight of a huge nest/bed waiting for him. He collapsed into the mound of cushions and blankets, burrowing into the comfort and pulling a blanket over himself.

He was mostly asleep when Castiel left the bag in the corner of the room and showered himself. When he came back out of the washroom, he murmured “sleep well, Dean,” under his breath and walked right past Dean, towards the main room of the house. 

“Caaaaas,” Dean whined. “Where’re you going? C’mere.”

“You need sleep, Dean. I’ll take my rest in the next room.”

“Fuck that,” Dean mumbled. He reached for Castiel, leaning out of the nest and almost falling on his face, but he managed to catch the hem of his cloak. “Take your rest in here. I won’t be able to sleep if you're that far away. I just got you back.” He pulled until Castiel tumbled into the nest next to him. Dean managed to get the blanket out from under Castiel so he could tuck them both together underneath it.

Dean wiggled his arms around Castiel, settled his head on the broad, warm chest so he could listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat, and threw a leg over him.

“Comfy?” Dean asked with his eyes already closed. He felt Castiel’s affirmative rumble in his chest. “Gonna be able to recharge like this?” Another yes. “Okie dokie,” he said, and instantly dropped off to sleep.

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're finally reunited!!! It only took 8 chapters!!!


	9. Secrets

Dean drifted lazily towards consciousness, warm and comfortable and content. He opened his eyes and found he’d drifted a bit in his sleep, his cheek was resting on Castiel’s bicep, which was wet with drool. He looked at Castiel’s profile, still and peaceful in rest. He moved his hand to wipe off the drool before he spoke.

“Hey Cas, you awake?” 

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel replied instantly with no trace of sleep in his voice.

“So you noticed-”

“The drool on my arm? Yes, I’m aware.” Castiel couldn’t hold back a fond smile as he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Dean.

“Well that’s what you get for being such a comfortable pillow,” Dean teased. The two of them stared for a long moment, as seemed to happen when their eyes met, but eventually reality seeped into their small, quiet bubble of contentment, and Dean shivered at the chill of worry that zipped down his spine as the previous 24 hours caught up with him, freezing away the happiness he’d felt at waking up in Castiel’s arms. He sighed and sat up, and Castiel mirrored his movement when he saw the change in Dean’s expression.

“I suppose I have a few things to tell you,” he said.

Dean didn’t say anything, but he crossed his arms across his chest, bracing himself, and nodded for Castiel to continue.

“So you’ve been getting my field reports, but they may have been a bit misleading. I detailed skirmishes and encounters that didn’t exactly… happen.” Castiel was speaking to Dean’s elbow, or somewhere thereabouts.

“Come again?” Dean’s voice was low and dangerous. He could feel anger rising, and Castiel had better have a goddamn good explanation for falsifying reports. 

Castiel hurried to explain. “It was suspected that there was someone close to you, on your staff, that was loyal to Zachariah. If they were reading my reports and it looked like the rebellion was more widespread and active than it actually was, we thought it could prompt them to take action and expose themselves.”

“So I was the bait,” Dean said. He felt the sting of betrayal pressing at the back of his skull. “You didn’t feel like you needed to tell me any of this, you just let me spend _months_ thinking that you were in danger, that your duties were keeping you away from me, and the whole time you were just trying to make me look like an easy target.” 

“No, Dean, that’s not what it was,” Castiel was pleading. He raised his hand to touch Dean, but drew it back at the sharp glare from hard green eyes. “We expected an attempt to get Lucifer and Zachariah out of prison, or maybe work on making connections in Lerwick. You weren’t supposed to be in any danger.”

“Tell that to my secretary who almost fucking _stabbed me_ last night,” Dean snapped. He was pissed off and scared, and getting hit with waves of guilt and regret from Castiel. His head was killing him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to slow down the barrage of emotions on his mind. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate, or maybe like his head was about to split open. 

The tentative hand on his shoulder was too much - it tipped him over the edge. He let out a wordless roar of pain and anger, throwing up walls in his mind and shoving all of the emotions outward. It was suddenly quiet in his mind, the silence echoing and vast after so long with other people’s feelings in his head, and he blinked open his eyes, surprised to feel tears fall from them.

Castiel was on his hands and knees across the room, crumpled at the base of the wall. His eyes were wide and staring at Dean.

“What - what happened?” Dean’s voice was shaking. “How did you get over there?”

“You, um,” Castiel tried, searching for words. “You - threw me? Are you ok, Dean?”

A hysterical giggle bubbled out of Dean’s throat. “You’re the one who just got thrown at a wall by my mind powers. Oh my god,” his brain caught up with his words. “Shit Cas, are you ok? I’m so sorry, how could I - _Shit_.”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel said, moving to sit a short distance away. “It was my fault, I apologize. You felt hurt and betrayed. Please, allow me to finish telling you what happened, and then you can send me away if you wish.”

Dean looked at his hands, trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d just thrown someone - not someone, _Castiel_ \- with his mind. He could've really hurt him, what if he did it again, or couldn’t control himself, or it happened in a crowded room?”

“Dean,” Castiel said softly. He didn’t move closer, didn’t try to touch Dean, but his gentle voice was enough to draw Dean’s eyes upward. “I’m ok, see? I’m not at all injured, I’m totally fine.”

“Cas,” Dean said brokenly, and reached for him. They had been sitting just out of arm’s reach from each other, but Dean had reached out with his mind too, and Castiel let out a surprised gasp as he was pulled into the nest by an invisible force. Dean clung to him, burying his face in Castiel’s neck. 

Castiel wrapped his arms around him and murmured soothing nonsense into his hair.

Dean lessened his grip on Castiel after a couple minutes of calming himself down, but didn’t pick his head up. “I’m still pissed at you,” he said, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“Quite understandably,” Castiel responded. Dean could feel a fresh wave of guilt coming off Castiel, but it just skirted along the outside of his mind without bowling him over. The shield he had managed to put in place was allowing him to read and recognize Castiel's emotions without taking them on as his own. 

“I’m staying here,” he said. “You talk. And you’d better make it good, I really don’t want to be mad at you.”

A breath of fondness and relief touched the edge of Dean’s mind, and Castiel started talking. He left nothing out this time, detailing what made them think there was a mole, Gabriel's strategy of feeding false information to try and draw them out, and how Castiel had fought him on leaving Dean in the dark until Gabriel had pulled rank on him and ordered him to maintain secrecy, even from Dean. Gabriel believed it was the safest option, and nothing Castiel said was changing his mind. If Dean had trusted his staff enough to let something slip, even accidentally, it could have jeopardized the entire operation.

“If I had thought for a moment that you would be in such direct danger I would have gone against Gabriel’s orders, even if it meant demotion or exile. We never expected - Samandriel was thoroughly and intensively screened before he was placed, he passed every test.” Castiel's aura was a deep, black-tinged blue, blending into his dark wings. Guilt and regret were dragging him down, Dean could feel the weight of them, but the fairy just took a breath and kept talking.

“We didn’t anticipate the Compelling. That ritual - it is mostly unknown and extremely dark, tainting those who utilize it. There is no way Zachariah or Lucifer would be able to maintain it from prison, so it must be Naomi. She is being watched, of course, but has enough freedom to obtain the required ingredients, and enough privacy to perform the maintenance of the ritual. After the first binding, she would be able to refresh her connection to Samandriel long-distance.” Castiel’s voice had grown quiet, almost talking to himself. 

“He was trying to fight it,” Dean said softly. “He tried to push her back.”

“Samandriel is a good man,” Castiel said. “He will be kept secure, but unharmed. Once Naomi is captured and the Compulsion is undone, he will be released.”

“So how do we do that? Send a message to Gabriel? Why don’t we just Travel to the capitol and take care of this?” Dean thought of the miles and miles of long days in a carriage that had taken him to Lerwick.

“A message can be intercepted, and Traveling can be tracked; it leaves a fairy-specific signature, and we’d have enemy forces on your tail in a moment. We need to get to the capitol without anyone knowing. Once Mr. Trenton tells Balthazar that you’ve escaped, Balthazar will kick off the emergency procedures, which involve explanations to explain your absence that won’t arouse suspicion or panic in the general public. Naomi’s people need to believe that you’re out of commission, either through fear or injury. If they hear of us trying to send a message or Traveling to the capitol, they’ll strike with everything they have out of desperation, which could put Sam at risk. If they think they have the upper hand, they should wait to make their move until they’ve gotten everything in place behind the scenes. That will hopefully give us enough time to do what we need to do.”

Dean finally sat up. He still wasn’t happy with the fact that he’d been kept in the dark, but everything was finally out in the open, and they had a plan to move forward. He decided that taking action and working together with Castiel was the most important thing right now, and he’d set his anger aside. “So we’re hoofing it?” 

Castiel cocked his head and squinted at Dean with a confused expression so adorable Dean had to stop himself from booping him on the nose. “Mean’s we’re traveling by foot,” he explained.

“Oh, yes,” Castiel said. “That is our best option at the moment. We will walk between safe houses, and there should be a few portals along the way that can take us closer to the capitol and save time without being trackable. I think we should stay here for today, chart out a plan and rest up, and then leave first thing tomorrow morning. If that pleases you,” he said with a sheepish look at Dean. Castiel may have been the experienced soldier of the two of them, but Dean still outranked him and must be deferred to. 

“Course, Cas, that’s fine. Let’s go get some grub.” Dean gave in the urge to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair, just once, then clambered out of the next and made his way to the kitchen to find food.

~~~

Dean found dry stores in the pantry and set to putting food together. He put a pot of water out to soak some beans for their dinner that night and set a second pot boiling on the stove to cook the rice he’d found. He rummaged for ingredients to add to the rice, to give it some flavor and make a side dish into a meal. He found a few shriveled carrots, an onion that had a large patch of rot on one side, but the other half was usable, and plenty of dried herbs to choose from. He was just measuring out scoops of rice when Castiel spoke from right behind him. 

“You could add these, to stretch the rice and to give some nutrients.” Dean jumped and spilled the rice he’d been scooping.   
“Flaxseeds are very good,” Castiel continued earnestly, holding out a clay jar filled with small, shiny brown seeds.

Dean cursed under his breath and grumbled something about sneaky ninja fairies needing bells, and went about sweeping the rice grains into his hand. 

“My apologies if I startled you,” Castiel said meekly. “I should not have assumed our prior familiarity would still be intact.”

“No Cas, of course it is,” Dean sighed, feeling like an asshole. “Listen,” he said, turning around to face Castiel fully. “We’re gonna have a feelings talk real quick.”

He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, which probably wasn’t the best way to approach this conversation, but Dean felt awkward and uncomfortable. He wished that Castiel could just read his mind. He couldn’t figure out what his emotions were himself, and now he had to put them into words to explain them. Castiel waited patiently, head bowed respectfully, while Dean gathered his thoughts.

“I’m… scared.” Castiel’s eyes snapped up in surprise at his words, and Dean cleared his throat. “I’m scared for Sam, for Eden, for Alfie, for you. So much is at risk because of me and I hate it. So I’m stressed and feeling guilty and on edge. And yeah, I’m pissed that you didn’t tell me what was going on, and believe me, I’m gonna have some words with Gabriel when we make it back to the capitol, but I’m not holding that against you. We can fight about that later, when Naomi is taken care of and everything is stable. 

“From here on out, me and you are good, ok? You have permission and encouragement to be as familiar as you damn well please. No more walking on eggshells or being all formal and crap with me. We’re a team, in this together, yeah?” Dean let the shields in his mind down and got the full wave of Castiel’s happiness and lo- affection for him. He reached out and pulled him into a hug, running his fingers through that mess of dark hair.

Castiel went boneless, sagging into Dean. His aura was so bright Dean had to shut his eyes, and there was a breeze on his face from the restless flutter of black wings. Hands came up to clutch the back of Dean’s shirt, and Castiel’s desperate relief made Dean feel like they were floating, to the point that he had to crack an eye open and look over Castiel’s shoulder to make sure that they were still standing firmly on the ground. 

~~~

They were able to eat their dinner - Castiel had been right, the flaxseeds were a good addition - and finish up all of their last minute preparations. After an hour of so of wandering around the safe house, double and triple checking that they had everything ready, Dean finally decided to try and get some sleep. Castiel followed him to the bedroom (nestroom?) automatically, and Dean was glad to see that it had been worth it to talk things out earlier. Castiel got into the nest first, sitting so that his wings weren’t pinched or cramped anywhere with his legs stretched out in front of him, and Dean settled on top of him. He wrapped his arms around Castiel’s waist and snuggled (it was a very manly snuggle) his face into Castiel’s chest. Despite their worry and planning and overthinking, Dean felt peaceful and comfortable in Castiel’s arms. 

Dean let his peace spill out, feeding some to Castiel as they lay together and Dean drifted towards sleep. Castiel, in turn, was radiating contentment and comfort back to Dean, his feelings becoming slower and slightly more muted as he sank into his meditation. The feedback loop of pleasant feelings had Dean falling asleep far more quickly than he thought he’d be able to, and his dreams were pleasant brushstrokes of galaxies and feelings of safety. They had a long journey ahead, arduous and probably extremely dangerous, but Castiel was the best, actually, the only other person or fairy Dean could think of that he’d want by his side going forward from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new computer got in! Yay for a keyboard to type on!!
> 
> I had to post a chapter as soon as I possibly could, so here you are. I'm going to bed, but look for another chapter coming your way tomorrow when I'm not exhausted. It has been such a shitty week for me, but I'm not going to sit here and whine in my chapter notes. That's what Facebook is for, amiright? 
> 
> Look at Dean, initiating chick flick moments.


	10. Catching Up

“I need a promotion.”

Dean’s fork paused halfway to his mouth as he tried to figure out just where the hell that had come from. “Uh... Wanna run that by me again? And maybe… explain?”

“Not necessarily a promotion, I don’t want more soldiers under my command. I don’t necessarily need any soldiers under my command, actually. Perhaps a demotion? Reassignment, would probably be most apt.” Castiel was speaking to his bowl of rice, poking the grains around with his fork. “I could just resign entirely from the military,” he mused to himself.

“Just. Hang on a second. What are you talking about?” Dean tried to get a read on Castiel, but there weren’t any strong colors or emotions coming off of him. Thoughtfulness, intense focus, but nothing negative or underhanded.

Castiel met Dean’s eyes. “My current position has me taking my orders from my brother. Gabriel is a good man and a great commander, but he could call me away from your side. He can’t now, seeing as we’re on the run and traveling in secret, but he’s already placed a wedge between you and I, where I betrayed your trust to fulfill my duty.” He paused to take a deep breath, eyes falling back to his food. “In my service to Eden and the Crown as an entity, I let you down personally. It seems to me the best solution is for me to operate outside of the general chain of command in the military. If you truly want us to be a team, to keep me at your side, I can’t have my duty divided in that way anymore. You can figure out a position to give me, or I can resign and be a private citizen.”

“What like my consort?” Dean asked, making a face. “No, Cas. You’re not throwing away your entire career and lifetime of experience to follow me around. We’ll come up with a title for you so you answer directly to me, but Gabriel doesn’t lose his status. For now, we’re just two guys on the run, not king and subject, so it’s equal footing. We’ll announce your new position when we get to the capitol. And-” Dean cut himself off, wondering if the next part was something he should keep to himself. If it was putting too much out there, presuming. 

“What is it, Dean?” Castiel asked, all wide eyes and genuine interest.

“Maybe, when we get to the capitol, we could reveal our - us? That we’re, you know, a thing?”

Castiel didn’t respond right away. In fact, he didn’t do anything at all for a long while, and Dean was afraid he’d broken him. “Nevermind, that was dumb,” he rushed to say. “You don’t want it to look like - just forget it, sorry.”

“No!” Castiel burst out, jolting back into action. “I mean - yes. I would like it if we didn’t have to conceal what we are any longer. Though that really would make me your consort.”

Dean smiled. “I suppose it would. It’s just that I hate having to pretend I don’t really know you, having to keep my distance,” he reached out and grasped Castiel’s finger in his own. “Besides, being with you might stop everyone I meet from trying to introduce me to the girl they think I should marry, or maybe prevent unexpected come-ons from confused valets.”

“What?” Surprise and the faintest green tinge of jealousy flickered across Castiel’s aura. “Mr. Trenton?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. “I was complaining after the arborist in Modell started talking up the virtues of his marriageable daughter. He interpreted my disinterest in the women of the kingdom as a sexuality thing, and he kissed me.” 

Castiel bristled, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Don’t worry, I turned him down. Gently. Told him that I was gone on someone already.” He squeezed Castiel’s hands.

There was a dopey smile on Castiel’s face, and Dean knew it was mirrored on his own. “You said that?”

“Of course I did, it’s the truth,” Dean told him. 

Castiel beamed and pushed out of his chair. He rounded the small kitchen table and took Dean’s face in both of his hands, placing a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” 

Dean had to look away. He felt his face heating as he was caught in an overwhelming rush of happiness, his own and Castiel’s colliding and building until he was almost bursting with it. “Yeah, me too, Cas.” It wasn’t right, it fell short, but it was all he could offer at the moment. All he was willing to do, to show, and he couldn’t get three words out. How _stupid_. He cleared his throat. “I think I had a map shoved in a corner of my bag, hopefully it’s still there. It had our route drawn out and everything, it should be helpful. I’ll see if I can find it.” He scrambled out of his seat and rushed to the bedroom to rummage through his bag, leaving Castiel standing alone in the kitchen. _That definitely helped the situation_ , Dean groused at himself.

~~~

They spent a couple hours poring over the map. Castiel did most of the work, planning a path that offered concealment for them to move unnoticed, but also had access to provisions at regular intervals. Dean mostly nodded and “hmmmm”ed at seemingly appropriate times. Meanwhile, he was laying out their food and putting together ration packs, consolidating the necessary clothes and blankets they’d need, and packing the bag as efficiently as possible for the long haul.  
After a stretch of an hour where they’d both been quietly going about their tasks, Dean spoke. “Hey Cas?”

Castiel straightened from where he’d been hunched over the map. His spine popped and his wings fluttered as he moved after being still for such a long stretch. “Yes, Dean? Do you need something?”

“I was wondering,” Dean said, fiddling with a cloth bag filled with raw almonds. “You told me why you’d been gone for so long, but why were you there last night?” _Last night_? Jesus, it had been less than a day since everything went to shit. 

Castiel’s ears turned pink, and nervous embarrassment clouded his aura. “Well, it was just that- It wasn’t exactly a sanctioned trip… Gabriel didn’t know, but we had a lull in activity. He’d ordered me not to tell you our strategy, but that didn’t necessarily mean I couldn’t _see_ you…” Castiel’s wings were fluttering restlessly and he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’d learned watching Dean. 

“I just wanted to see you,” he finally said flatly, giving up on trying to find loopholes in his orders. “I knew that Lerwick was going to be probably the most difficult stop for you on the tour, so I thought that maybe I could meet you there and just, I don’t know, be around for a couple days before I had to be on my way again?”

Dean’s smile had grown wider and wider as Castiel stumbled through his explanation. “Did you miss me?” His tone was too happy to be as teasing as he’d intended. 

Castiel huffed. “You knew that already. Of course I missed you. I didn’t clear my visit with Gabriel and I was going to have it be a surprise. I saw your guards slumped outside in the hallway, then found Ezekiel in the sitting room. I saw Alfie with your blade at the same time that I felt your danger. I almost - what if I hadn’t been there?” He shook his head, dislodging that thought. “If I hadn’t been…” he trailed off, searching for a word.

“AWOL? Disobeying orders? Shimmying down the drainpipe to see your boyfriend?” Dean offered with a charming smile.

Blue eyes sharpened into a glare. “I was going to say avoiding my brother.”

“But you were there,” Dean said. “You were there to see me, you made it in time, all heroic and badass like the soldier you are.” He’d been approaching Castiel as he spoke, and wrapped him in his arms. “You saved me,” he murmured into Castiel’s ear. “Just like you always have, just like you always will.” He squeezed Castiel to him, trying to push all of his trust and affection into the gesture. 

Castiel squeezed back, like he was confirming for himself that Dean was there and safe.

Dean stepped back. “I think we’re about as prepared as we’re gonna be for leaving tomorrow morning. Come sit with me.” He detoured to his satchel and pulled out his tangle of leather cording and his small bag of beads and shells. He gestured for Castiel to sit first on the low couch, then sat himself, draping his legs over Castiel’s lap. “Here, hold this,” he said as he held out the knotted end of a half-finished bracelet. Castiel held it obediently and watched as Dean continued his intricate knotted design, weaving the pink and green cords between each other with deft fingers. 

“How did you learn how to do this?” Castiel asked after a few minutes of quiet observation.

Dean shrugged as he threaded a bead onto the cord he was working with. “I went to a boy’s camp the summer I was twelve and they taught us the basics. I liked it, it helped me keep my hands busy, helped me think, impressed girls,” he winked at Castiel, who rolled his eyes. “Then, you know, I’d go online and learn a new knot or how to incorporate beads here and there when I got bored with what I could do.” He shrugged again.

Castiel ran his fingers over one of the beads already woven in at his end of the bracelet. “These are lovely,” he commented.

Dean grinned and told him about Solime, and how he had to eat fish, but the market booths were full of interesting things. And about Modell, where he spoke with the master arbortech and how that led to Cole kissing him. He talked about Sam’s crush on Jessica Moore, the historian’s apprentice. All of the little day to day things, the times where he’d looked over his shoulder to tell Castiel something to find him gone, he told him there on the couch with their legs tangled together, two sets of eyes focused on the bracelet Dean was weaving. 

They stopped for dinner, then settled back on the couch and talked into the evening, until Dean was interrupted mid-sentence by a jaw-cracking yawn. They moved to the nest room and Dean fell asleep in Castiel’s arms for the second night in a row, thinking that if he didn’t have to worry about the whole uprising and assassination attempt and Sam possibly being in danger, he’d be pretty damn content right now, just like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little chapter of the boys reconnecting because they need it!


	11. Dean and Castiel Embark on an Epic Journey

Dean and Castiel were up before the sun, quietly moving around each other to gather their things and dress for the journey. They each had a pack with supplies to carry on their backs and were dressed in comfortable, nondescript clothes with sturdy boots and thick, soft socks. Dean had spotted a small bag among Castiel’s things that had yarn and knitting needles, a new sock half-rendered and waiting on the needles for completion. Dean asked about the socks they were wearing, and Castiel confirmed that he had, in fact, made them himself. Castiel had beamed with pride when Dean complimented his work, gold happiness making him look like the guardian angel Dean had expected so long ago. 

Once they’d shouldered their packs and fastened their cloaks overtop, Castiel once again opened up the wall that disguised the comfortable safehouse inside a dilapidated cabin. They stepped through the small cabin, taking care to kick leaves and plants in place behind them to conceal their tracks, and moved aside the groaning front door to reveal the soft gray mist of pre-dawn forest light. 

“Lead the way, Frodo,” Dean said, flourishing his hand out in front of them. Castiel just looked confused, and Dean rolled his eyes. “When we get back to the capitol I’m gonna make Sam set up wi-fi so we can get you caught up on human culture. If you got my references, you’d have a better appreciation for how hilarious I am.”

Castiel gave him an appeasing smile. “I find you quite charming, Dean. I don’t know that it is necessary for me to ‘get’ your references, but I will attempt to get up to speed, if that’s what you wish.”

“You sure?” Dean asked, attempting a lighthearted, teasing tone, but with too much underlying nervousness to quite pull it off. “There’s a lot to catch up on. We’ll have to spend a lot of time together, watching movies and shows, talking about stuff…” he trailed off, squinting into the trees and pretending that he knew where the hell they were going, and like he wasn’t hanging on Castiel’s words or hoping for a particular answer.

“It’s a hardship I would have to endure for the sake of my kingdom,” Castiel deadpanned. 

Dean bumped their shoulders together. “You're getting the hang of this sarcasm thing.”

Castiel’s stoic tone of voice was betrayed by amused crinkles around his eyes. “Sire, there are a few matters that I must resolve before we can begin my education. Preventing an uprising, delivering you safely to the capitol, a couple minor tasks.”

“I’m sure you’ll get that stuff done in a few days. A week, tops.” Dean looked at his feet to navigate through a tangle of roots in his path. When he looked back up to continue their banter, Castiel was gone.

~~~  
“Shit,” he said to the trees around him. “Shit, shit, fuck. Cas?” He called out as loudly as he dared. “We literally _just left_ the safe house, what the hell, man?” Dean shifted nervously from foot to foot, wondering if he should go back to the safe house or stay put, or maybe continue on to the capitol alone. If they’d been tracked here somehow, if Cas had been taken by rebels he wouldn’t be back, and Dean was a target for staying. But if Cas _did_ come back and Dean was gone? 

He waited there, scanning the surrounding forest and trying not to freak out for about ten minutes when he made up his mind to go back to the safe house. He’d wait there for a day, and set out on his own the next morning if Cas hadn’t found him by then. He tried to remember how Cas had gotten them into the secret door as he shouldered his pack. He turned back, resigning himself to sleeping on the floor of the small, rundown cabin when he walked straight into golden wings. He let out a very (un)manly yelp, and heard a grunt of pain from the owner of the wings.

“Gabriel?”

“Sire,” Gabriel responded through gritted teeth. “So good to see you again. If you’ll come with me,” he held out a hand, presumably for Dean to take.

“Where’s Cas?” Dean demanded.

Gabriel maintained his professional air because he was an experienced and well-renowned general, but his aura showed an exasperated sigh was just barely held back. “I Summoned him to the castle. And now I’ve come to retrieve you.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at the obvious capitalization of the word, similar to when they’d discussed Naomi’s Compelling of Samandriel. “I can’t Travel because I can be tracked.” 

“The Summoning was my signature, not Castiel’s, and since you’re going to be piggybacking on my Traveling, it’s the same deal. So nobody will know where either of you have ended up. I thought this through, unlike the two of you. With respect, your Majesty.” The last sentence was hastily tacked on when Gabriel remembered who he was addressing. His etiquette was slipping. Dean saw annoyance and impatience in him, which were covering a barely discernible underlayer of fear. Wow, he was good at masking his emotions.

Gabriel’s hand was still outstretched towards Dean and he wiggled his fingers at him to hide their slight tremble. “Shall we, Sire?”

Dean huffed and took his hand, and the two of them appeared in the sitting room of Sam’s quarters in the castle of the capitol. Castiel was there, glaring at Gabriel from a corner of the room, and Sam rushed forward to crush Dean in a hug.

“Dean,” he said, holding him at arm’s length and studying him like he was expecting to find a target painted on his forehead. 

“Yeah Sammy, I’m right here. Hi.” 

“ _Dean_ ,” Sam’s posture slumped with a wave of relief, which almost bowled Dean over with the force of it. Dean carefully put up some mental shields.

“Still here, little brother. I’m fine.”

“Gabriel showed up and said Alfie tried to kill you, and then he painted some runes on the floor and when they glowed Castiel appeared, and Gabriel was supposed to go get you right away, but he had to stand here and argue with Castiel for an hour-”

“It was ten minutes,” Gabriel cut in. “I would’ve been gone right away if Cassie had just admitted he was wrong and that he needed my help-”

It was Castiel’s turn to interrupt. “I told you from the beginning that we should have told Dean - his Majesty - of our suspicions, and your orders put him in danger! If I hadn’t gone to see him when I did-”

“Abandoned your post, you mean,” Gabriel said scathingly.

“He would be dead!” Castiel roared, and Dean had never seen him lose his composure this way. He’d seen Castiel angry, protective, and coldly furious, but he had always kept it carefully controlled, every bit the soldier and commander that he was. This new side of him was terrifying to see, all aggression and violence as he advanced on Gabriel, radiating rage and fear, and Dean was half afraid that was was on the verge of pulling his Eden blade on his own brother.

“If I had ignored my instincts and continued to blindly follow your orders, Dean would be dead,” he snarled. “I will not leave his side again.”

Gabriel bristled at the way his little brother and subordinate was talking to him. Dean stepped in and grasped Castiel’s arm before it could come to blows, and the effect was instantaneous. His aura and posture both drained of aggression, and he allowed Dean to pull him into a hug. Dean whispered in his ear, speaking lowly for a small impression of privacy with both of their brothers in the room with them. “It’s ok Cas, I’m fine. You were there, you made it, ok? No ‘what ifs’ or worrying about things that didn’t happen.”

When Castiel gave a small nod of acknowledgement, Dean pulled back from the hug, but held Castiel’s hand as he addressed Gabriel. “First off, you've got some major shit coming to you for deliberately withholding information from me, but that will have to wait until I’m not under threat of assassination, because I still need you right now. Secondly, thanks for saving us from the whole ‘epic journey sneaking through the woods’ thing. Secondly, item B, someone needs to give me a full rundown of fairy magic because all of a sudden there’s Compelling and Summoning and tracking magical signatures and shit that I feel like I should know about.”

“Technically it’s not magic,” Sam tried to interject, but Dean wasn’t having it.

“It’s friggin magic, ok? Let’s call it what it is. No more vague descriptions or talking around the word. Bottom line is, I don’t want any more fairy ability surprises. Thirdly, can someone get me a goddamn cheeseburger?”

Sam laughed and clapped Dean on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll order some food to have brought up here, go hide in my bedroom or something. I guess we’re bunking up until we figure everything out.”

“Just like old times,” Dean grinned at him. “Hey, can you ask them to draw up a bath when you order the food? Oh, and we’ve gotta get some showers installed, there was this really neat setup in Modell, but I think that I might try and rig up some plumbing since this isn’t a tree.”

“What?” Sam said, unable to follow Dean’s train of thought. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later. I’m gonna go make some room in your wardrobe and unpack some stuff, come get me when the food is here. C’mon, Cas.” He pulled Castiel by their joined hands into Sam’s bedroom and closed the door behind them. 

~~~

Dean shoved aside the clothes hanging in Sam’s wardrobe and dumped his pack into the corner. He tossed his cloak on top and toed off his boots, then slumped onto the small couch in the room. “There, I’m unpacked,” he said, grinning at Castiel. 

Castiel smiled, but took his time taking things out of his own pack before unpacking Dean’s as well, hanging his nicer clothes alongside Sam’s things, and putting what he could into a drawer. When he was done he joined Dean on the couch, and boldly linked their hands again. “You didn’t have to do my stuff, but thank you,” Dean said, leaning against him. 

“Of course, Dean.” They sat there quietly, leaning into each other. They were home, they were safe, they were together, and they were exhausted. 

“Insert a joke about making use of the bed,” Dean said after a few minutes of silence. “I’m too drained to come up with something witty.” 

Castiel laughed, just a bare huff of air and a shake of his shoulders. “Noted.” 

They slipped into another easy silence, and within minutes both of them had dozed off, Dean’s head on Castiel’s shoulder and Castiel’s face turned so his cheek was pressed to the top of Dean’s head. They slept for about 30 minutes before Sam came in to tell them that food was there, but he took a few seconds to pull out his phone and snap a picture of the two of them. They didn’t get cell service in Eden, but Sam kept the phone with him out of habit. He’d use it to take down notes on a book he was reading or play a mindless game if he needed to give his brain a break for a while. And, of course, the camera feature came in handy for blackmail purposes. Or maybe sometimes to take fun selfies with Jess during late nights in the archives. 

Dean blinked awake groggily, while Castiel simply opened his eyes and was fully alert as usual after his meditations. Dean perked up quickly once he smelled their food. They shuffled into the sitting room where a tray was laid out with food for the two of them. Dean sat down and shoved a handful of french fries into his mouth immediately, groaning at the golden, crispy deliciousness. Castiel paused for a moment. “No food for you and Gabriel?”

“Technically this is for me and Gabriel,” Sam said. “Because you two aren’t here. And the chefs think I’m weird for asking for cheeseburgers and fries when I just had breakfast about an hour ago.”

“Right, of course. Well, thank you for acquiring it. I have become… quite fond of cheeseburgers.” He stole a glance at Dean, who had introduced him to more than one aspect of the human realm that he was fond of. 

The four of them sat around the table while Dean and Castiel dug into their food. Sam was looking at Dean with disgust as he took huge bites, while Gabriel managed to just seem impressed. 

“Gabriel. Fairy magic. Start talking,” Dean said, pausing to take a drink of his water. 

Gabriel looked between Sam and Castiel warily, but he’d been issued an order by his king. He started talking.


	12. Family Story Time

“So let me get this straight,” Dean said around a mouthful of cheeseburger. It wasn’t quite right - the seasonings were just a big off. The royal chefs still hadn’t managed to replicate Ellen’s creations, but they were getting close. “The reason this stuff - Compelling and Summoning and whatever - isn’t well known is because it’s blood magic?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, flitting his eyes towards Gabriel for a split second. “Blood related spells went out of practice over a century ago, when your great-great grandfather outlawed them. Their potential for manipulation and imposing one’s will onto others makes them dangerous.”

He was annoyed at Gabriel for Summoning him like he had, but his disapproval held a tinge of guilt when he thought back to sealing his home’s protection wards with his own blood. That had been necessary, Lucifer had been a real and immediate threat, but Gabriel believed that the Summoning had been necessary. He gave himself a mental shake to avoid delving into the deep, murky gray areas of blood magic ethics.

“It seems to have had something of a revival,” Gabriel said bluntly. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find that Naomi used some of her old connections to get into the sealed archives and look into this stuff to try and get some power back. Lord knows they’re desperate enough.”

“If it was outlawed,” Sam said from the chair next to Dean. “If it’s taboo, how is it that you two know so much about it?”

Dean saw the brothers cast guilty looks at each other, not quite meeting his and Sam’s gazes, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled up. “I swear to God-Gods-Eden, whoever the hell I need to swear to, you two,” his anger surged up, quick and hot. “You had better tell me everything. I’m sick of this withholding important details bullshit. Spill.”

Gabriel gave Castiel a minute shake of his head, trying to tell him to be careful, but Castiel squared his shoulders. It was an order from his king, after all. He spoke bluntly. “You know that we are related to Zachariah and Naomi - they’re our great aunt and uncle. Naomi was our grandfather’s sister.”

Sam and Dean nodded - they’d known there was a family connection, it had kept Castiel in the royal court after the assassination of the Campbell royals and Zachariah’s takeover. They’d never gotten a full background story, though. Castiel had proven his loyalty to Dean, and the Campbell line, over his own batshit relations time and again.

“Our grandmother,” Castiel continued, and glared at Gabriel for the small halting gesture he made. “Our grandmother was extremely talented in alchemy and charms. She’s the one who made my trench coat, actually. Her talent - and her power - earned her a reputation among some circles. Aunt Naomi, who places a lot of importance on control and propriety, was… less than pleased when my grandfather married ‘the witch.’”

Dean tried not to be endeared at Castiel’s use of finger quotes in the middle of such a serious conversation.

“Their marriage led to some tension in the family, which increased when Naomi went on to marry the vocal, power hungry political figure Zachariah. Even then he was loudly and publicly disapproving of the Campbells. He claimed it was unjust and hypocritical to allow some forms of magic but not others.”

When Castiel paused, Sam jumped in with a question. “Wait. If he wanted to allow the use of powerful blood magic, why didn’t he like your grandmother? It seems like he and Naomi would’ve tried to gain favor with her if she was as powerful as you say.”

“Because,” Gabriel answered him, apparently resigned to sharing their family history. “Grandma Hazel agreed with the laws.” Gabriel sighed and slumped down in his chair before elaborating. “Once upon a time,” he said sardonically. “When Grandma Hazel was young, she had a twin sister named Hael.”

Dean looked at Castiel in surprise. “Her namesake,” Castiel explained, referring to his cousin. At Dean’s nod of understanding, Gabriel went on.

“Hazel and Hael were both extremely powerful at a young age. They were well known in Eden, and by the time they came of age, they’d caught the attention of King Gregory Campbell, your grandpa Samuel’s dad. He moved the entire family to the Capitol to hire Hazel and Hael as royal Casters. Most of the wards and protections in the castle are their handiwork. A protection charm in the kitchen to make it so food can’t be poisoned, spelling rugs to keep the corners from curling up and tripping anyone, doors that can’t be battered own, all sorts of stuff. There was this one thing that Grandma Hazel used to do for me, one little puff of intent and she’d conjure up a mug of perfect hot chocolate, with little blobs of whipped cream floating in it…” He trailed off with a dazed, nostalgic look on his face.

“The point is,” Castiel took over, shooting Gabriel an annoyed look. “Hazel and Hael never used blood magic, it was all elemental. Runes and herbs and words, and they could achieve more than most fairies could with blood and sacrifice.”

“So Zachariah hated them for their power,” Dean guessed.

“Essentially, yes. Zachariah, when he was first gaining attention and making noise, had a brother named Raphael. Raphael tried to court Hael, to access her power by marrying her.”

“Uncle Zach and Raphael thought that if they could convert one of the sisters to their cause, convince her to partake in blood rituals, they’d have enough power to take the throne. Hazel met our grandpa pretty much as soon as they moved to the capitol, so Hael was an easier target for wooing. The thing is, ol’ Auntie Hael turned Raphael down flat, and laid out everything she didn’t like about him, his views, and his actions while she was at it. She made it very clear that she’d never let them access her or her sister's power.” Gabriel was balancing his chair on two legs and was gesturing with a lollipop that he’d apparently pulled out of nowhere. 

Castiel sighed at his brother’s interruption. “Yes, well, unfortunately Raphael had uncovered a Compulsion spell and used blood magic to bind Hael. He used her to kill several people, and there was a lot of danger and upheaval in the capitol as she essentially went on a rampage. Well, Raphael went on a rampage, through her.”

When his pause stretched out for several long moments, Sam spoke quietly. “What happened? How were they stopped?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Raphael caused enough chaos in the capitol to have everyone in a panic, and sent Hael to kill her sister, who was the only one powerful enough to stop her. You saw Samandriel, even though he didn’t want to attack you, he couldn’t overcome Naomi’s Compulsion. Raphael had less distance and time wearing down on the spell, so his control was near absolute. Except, he had tried to get her to kill her sister, the one person she cared about most in the world. She resisted, fought him hard, so he dug in to try and force her on. Hael directed all of her power at the bond between their minds and burned them both out. Hael died from the strain on her mind, and Raphael lived out his days as a soulless, empty husk.”

Gabriel cut in. “As you can imagine, Zachariah wasn’t a fan of our grandma after that happened. There weren't’ many people who knew the whole story - both sides had reasons to keep it quiet. So Zach married Aunt Naomi and got himself into our family, which made for _super_ awkward family dinners.”

“Ok, that explains a lot, but not why the two of you know blood magic.” Dean knew he’d asked for all of the details, but he really wanted them to get to the point.

“Our grandmother taught us,” Castiel told him. “For protection. Our parents weren’t very strong casters, and even Hael’s strength wasn’t enough to counter Raphael’s blood spell. When she saw our strength - mine, Gabriel’s, and our cousin Hael’s, she made sure to teach us not only elemental magic, but a few blood spells. We can shield ourselves and our homes, fight against Compulsions, things like that. Still, she never taught us any… offensive spells. She believed, more than ever, that blood magic should remain outlawed. We were only to use it to protect ourselves, and only in dire emergencies.” He looked at Gabriel, judgment coloring his aura. “Though it appears that my brother has been learning a few things on his own.”

“Don’t give me that,” Gabriel said defensively. “You were AWOL, along with the king. You were doing well at covering your tracks, I had no other way to locate you. Who knows what kind of trouble you could’ve gotten yourselves into, making that journey on foot. You should be thanking me for saving your ass.”

“That sort of justification is exactly what Grandma warned us against,” Castiel hissed. “Once you start down that road, you can find an excuse for any number of violations. I had the situation under control.”

“You were setting yourself up for _weeks_ of travel.” Gabriel’s defensiveness came out as anger. “Weeks, where any number of bad things could’ve happened to you or his Majesty. Weeks, where Naomi had time to make a move here on the capitol and on Prince Samuel because nobody knew where the king was or whether he was alive or dead. We’re working to get Dean a solid foothold in Eden - that was the whole reason for this damned tour in the first place, if you remember - there’s no way that Sam would be able to hold the throne if Dean were dead at this point. So yeah, I Summoned you. From where I’m standing, it was for protection, and it was definitely an emergency, and you’re fucking _welcome_ , baby brother.”

Gabriel spun on his heel and stomped to the door. “Get some rest, I’ll be back after dinner.” He started to slam the door, but caught it at the last second so it closed silently. 

“So…” Sam said into the heavy silence that Gabriel left behind. “I was supposed to meet Jess in the archives ten minutes ago, so I’m gonna just… go.” He left as quickly as he could, leaving Dean and Castiel sitting at the table with their mostly-eaten meal in front of them and their appetites gone. 

Dean could see the frustration, fear, anger, and guilt in Castiel’s aura, could feel the pulse of them in his own mind. He took a deep breath. “Cas, maybe your brother is right.”

Castiel’s aura flashed with indignation. “He had no right, he crossed a line-”

“I know you’re mad,” Dean said, putting his hand over Castiel’s on the table between them. “But as much as I hate to agree with Gabriel on anything, he saved us a hell of a lot of time and effort and danger by Summoning you. Plus, not only is he the commander of my military, he’s your big brother. He must’ve been worried. God knows how many times I’ve pissed Sammy off with the way I acted getting his ass out of hot water. Gabriel’s baby brother and king were both missing, immediately following an assassination attempt, I think that pretty solidly falls into ‘emergency’ category. There’s plenty of stuff he’s done that deserves you being pissed at him, but I don't think this Summoning is one of them.”

Dean could see in Castiel’s aura that he was winning the argument by the reluctant acceptance there. It was hard to let go of anger and admit that he was wrong, especially to his smug, self-important older brother. Dean squeezed his hand, and Castiel nodded. “You have a point, I suppose. Under no circumstances will I tell Gabriel that he was right, but I will… let it go.” 

“That’s all I ask,” Dean said, punctuating it with a kiss to Castiel’s temple. He stood and stretched, and smirked a little when he saw Castiel’s eyes catch on the hem of his shirt as it rode up, exposing a stirp of pale belly. “I know that technically it’s only been a few hours since we got up, but I’m beat. Wanna come take a nap?”

Dean could see Castiel’s explanation of rest/meditation and how it wasn’t actually sleep as humans understood it, but more of turning one’s mind into a wavelength of intent, on the tip of his tongue. “I know you don’t sleep, Cas, but naps aren’t really sleep either. Just a nice, middle of the day, restful meditation. Come on, it’ll help us both. I have food and information to digest, you have to figure out how to forgive Gabriel without him doing an ‘I told you so’ dance.”

Castiel smiled and nodded and, as always, followed Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, my brain is totally burned out from work, guys. I edited, but if there are still mistakes floating around in this chapter I apologize. Three more chapters after this, then an epilogue!


	13. Dean Uses the Force

“I overheard Metatron and Naomi, I was gone for the day but had to come back for my cloak.” A feminine voice drifted in from the sitting room, rousing Dean from his nap. “It was months ago, but I remember what they were talking about because of the taboo of the subject. Naomi was saying she’d found a candidate, that she needed complete control. Something about… she had tried Suggestion and he was susceptible to a point, but it wasn’t enough to finish the job.”

Dean stretched, and he and Castiel found Sam and Gabriel in the sitting room with Jessica Moore, the historian’s apprentice that Sam had a crush on. She stood when Dean entered the room, sweeping into a graceful curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said nervously. “Prince Samuel was telling me of your ordeal, he thought I may have known something since Naomi often visited the archives. I’m so glad to see you home and safe, Sire.” She was radiating sincerity.

Dean inclined his head to her, not feeling very kingly with rumpled clothes, sticking-up hair, and quite possibly pillow creases on his face. “Thank you for your kind words, Lady Moore. It sounds like Sam had the right idea, and you do have some information for us?”

Jessica nodded, a blush coloring her cheeks and aura. “Not much, I’m afraid. The only thing I know for certain is that Metatron was helping her. Once I heard what they were discussing - when Metatron said that she would need a blood spell for that level of control, that Compelling was much more powerful than suggestion, I left as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to be discovered.”

“That’s fine,” Sam said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It would’ve been dangerous for you to stay. It’s good you got out.”

Jessica was staring at the floor and words spilled out of her. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner, at first was so afraid that they’d know it was me that I kept quiet, but then as time went by and I didn't see or hear anything further that was suspicious or out of the ordinary, I guess I forgot, or assumed that it never turned into anything.” She looked miserable and apologetic, and Sam was quick to reassure her.

“You did the right thing, you didn’t know what Naomi was planning, and you let us know as soon as you realized it was relevant.” His arm was around her shoulders now, giving them a squeeze.

“Looks like someone’s getting a promotion soon,” Gabriel drawled from his seat, feet crossed at the ankle on the table in front of him and a stick of rock candy twirling between his fingers. “If the royal historian is a traitor and a conspirator with the Adlers, there will be a vacancy in the archives.” His eyes gleamed gold as he scrutinized Jessica, clearly not trusting her and displeased that Sam was spilling secrets. 

Sam bristled at Gabriel’s implication and glared at him over Jessica’s shoulder. “Jess would never lie about something like this.”

“Oh, so we just accept that Metatron is guilty from one half-heard, barely remembered conversation that occurred months ago on the word of _Jess_ , who stands to benefit hugely from such information, when she herself says that Metatron didn’t do anything else suspicious, and nothing at all outright illegal.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Sam over enunciated his words like he did when he was about to run out of patience, and Dean could see that yelling would happen soon.

“Ok fellas, let’s keep it down,” he said, working on damage control. “We can’t have people coming to check on a shouting match to find extra people in here, can we?” He looked pointedly at Cas, and down at himself.

Sam stayed standing next to Jessica and kept quiet, but flinched when Gabriel chomped down on his candy, the resulting crunch loud in the stillness of the room.

“If Sam trusts her I trust her,” Dean said to Gabriel, not mentioning the fact that he was relying heavily on his empathy and the fact that he couldn’t detect any trace of deception on her. The statement would’ve been true without his gift, anyways. He turned to Jessica. “Lady Moore, thank you for coming forward. We’ll look into this, I won’t ask you to put yourself at risk to investigate further. Right now, go about business as usual. When we have a plan, you have my word we’ll make sure you’re out of harm’s way before we carry it out.”

“I want to help,” she said, shaky but sure. “Now that I know what’s at risk,” her eyes flitted to Sam for just a moment, Dean almost didn’t catch it. Judging by the annoyed scoff, Gabriel had seen it as well. “This is important. I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Ok, that’s fine. For now that means letting Sam hang out at the archives while he looks for a solution to our problem, maybe cover for him if he has to borrow some texts from the restricted section.”

She nodded at Dean’s instructions, and he saw that she was relieved that she’d be able to help without being in any real danger.

“Ok Hermione,” Dean said to Sam. “We need a way to stop them. Permanently. Right now we’re looking at Zachariah, Naomi, and Lucifer, maybe Metatron, depending on what we find out about his involvement. I’d rather not execute a bunch of people, that really doesn’t sit well with me, but I can’t sit here as an assassination target, either, and I sure as hell can’t stay hidden and let you be the one at risk. Maybe like a binding or something? Prevent them from using magic to influence people?”

Sam nodded, piecing together a better idea of what exactly he was going to be searching for, and Jess was already running through a mental list of books and scrolls that might have even a hint of something to point them in the right direction. The two of them left for the archives together, talking quietly with their heads close together.

“It would be easier and safer to execute them,” Castiel said. Gabriel nodded his agreement.

“You can’t just kill everyone who threatens me,” Dean responded.

“Yes I can,” Castiel sounded offended.

“I know you _could_ , but you won’t. We’re gonna look for another solution.” He ignored Castiel’s pout and turned to Gabriel. “Gabe, can you go get me some books or maps or reports or something? I can’t just eat and sleep all day, I need something to do. If only I could get my hands in an engine…” he trailed off, fingers itching for a wrench.

Gabriel stood and tossed his bare candy stick on the table. “Of course, your Grace. I’ll be sure to bring some next time I visit.” He bowed and sauntered out of the room.

“How does he manage to execute a perfectly proper bow and make it feel so sarcastic at the same time?” Dean asked Castiel once they were alone.

“It’s a skill her’s honed over many years,” Castiel said. His hands and wings were moving restlessly - Dean wasn’t the only one getting a little stir crazy. The feeling of being hunted hadn’t gone away now that they were back in the castle, everything felt more pressing and urgent, like if he let his guard slip it would all come crashing down around him.

“Let’s spar,” Dean suggested. He didn’t wait for an answer before he started dragging the table towards the wall. Castiel followed suit with a chair, and soon they had the center of the room cleared and Eden blades drawn. Castiel paused and held up a hand to forestall starting, and went into the bedroom to rummage in his pack. He reemerged with a pouch of dried herbs. Dean settled into one of the displaced chairs and watched as Castiel took a pinch here and there of a few different herbs, what looked like sand, and a shiny rock, holding them all in his palm. He was murmuring as he worked, low words that dean couldn’t make out. Castiel spat into his palm and used the rock to move the herbs around, combining them with his saliva until he had a crumbly paste. He smeared a bit of it into the rug in the center of the room, and the rest was used to draw on the doorjamb. Finally, he walked to the other side of the room and wipe his palm on the windowsill, then set the shiny rock on top of the smear left behind. Dean cocked his head in question when Castiel looked his way.

“Soundproofing,” Castiel explained. “Generally not used. Homes are far enough apart, and the leaves and branches of the closer grown dwellings do a surprisingly good job of muffling noise. In the castle, royalty needs to be able to summon guards if they’re attacked, so it’s another valuable tool from my grandmother that has been pretty much forgotten by most fairies.”

Dean grinned at him. “Man, this would’ve come in handy when Sam and I were growing up in close quarters. The sounds that a thirteen year old moose in puberty can make will haunt me forever.”

Castiel gave him an unimpressed look. “I believe that in a contest of brotherly traumatization via bedroom sounds, Sam would be the winner. From the way he tells it, he had double the voices to try and block out.” 

Dean just grinned wider, not embarrassed in the least. He got out of his seat and moved to the open center of the room. “Those were life lessons, Cas, a big brother schooling his younger sibling in the ways of the world. Totally different scenario.” 

Castiel rolled his eyes at dean’s temerity. “Quit stalling. The room is soundproofed, now I can ‘kick your ass’ without half the castle bursting in.”

Dean chuckled. “Dude, you don’t need to use the finger quotes- oh shit,” his teasing was interrupted by a rush of black wings as Castiel moved in, aiming a sweeping kick towards Dean’s shoulder. Dean stumbled, but managed to dodge at the last second, and stayed on his feet. Castiel didn’t give him a break - he crowded into Dean’s space swiftly. Dean brought his arm up for a clumsy block, and there was a loud clang as their blades collided. Dean got a hand on Castiel's chest and shoved to get space between them, then Castiel hopped back with a single beat of his wings, not off balance in slightest, before darting back in. It was all Dean could do to react, blocking and sidestepping Castiel’s advances with no opportunity for an attack of his own.

“You’ve gotten slow,” teased Castiel, his tone conversational and teasing. The hand not holding a blade darted in for a tickling pass at Dean’s ribs. “You moved better as a human mechanic, castle life has been too easy for you.”

Dean scoffed at him, and answered in broken phrases in between ducks and dodges. “It was - a different - kind - of training.” He thought back to the cabin, when he had repelled Castiel with his mind. Maybe, if he focused…

Castiel jumped sharply and rubbed at his rear end, looking around for what had pinched him. Dean used the distraction to wrap his arms around Castiel’s waist and take him bodily to the floor, pinning him there. He shifted a knee to avoid putting any painful pressure on a dark wing and grinned down at Castiel, smug and excited. “What was it you were saying?”

Castiel frowned at him. “That was cheating.”

“I was using abilities and skills at my disposal,” Dean corrected haughtily.

Castiel squinted, studying Dean for a long moment. Then, quick as a cat, he shifted his weight to dislodge Dean and rolled out from under him, rising to his feet in the same fluid motion. “You're right, that can be useful. Do it again.”

~~~

Outwardly their sparring looked much the same as before, but with a fierce new intensity. Their Eden blades had been abandoned. Dean tried to focus using his mind to his advantage in the fight, while Castiel did his best to distract Dean with a steady flow of attacks targeted to keep him off balance. Kicks towards his feet and legs, open-handed bats to the sides of his head, and sharp jabs to his sides. Dean did his best to keep his guard up, to block physically while trying to maintain enough concentration to push at Castiel, or tug at a corner of his wing, or create an invisible obstacle for him to trip over. Like this, they were well matched. Dean’s extra ability made up the difference in their training and skill, and Castiel’s quick reflexes and adaptability were surprisingly adept when it came to battling invisible forces.

They were both sweating and breathing heavily. Dean managed a push at Castiel that was stronger than he’d intended. Castiel toppled backwards and ended sprawled on his back looking up at Sam, who had just walked in bearing a tray of food. 

“Hello Sam,” Castiel said politely from the floor, too unsteady to attempt standing at just that very moment. His greeting, or perhaps Sam’s confusion, set Dean off giggling as Sam looked between the two of them and around at his furniture all along the edges of the room. 

Dean came over and helped Castiel to his feet, unable to wipe the smile off his face. “Heya Sammy,” he said, reaching for the cover of a dish on the tray. Sam sidestepped him deftly and walked away. He had to lean over a pair of stacked chairs to set the tray down on the table. 

“Help me get this table out of there so we can eat. What have you guys been doing in here?”

“Sparring,” Castiel said simply, carrying the chairs to the center of the room. Sam and Dean took each side of the table and shuffled sideways to bring it - and the food - to join him. 

“ _Mind_ sparring,” Dean corrected. He grinned at his brother. “Sam, I can use the Force.”

Sam just rolled his eyes. “I know you’re an empath Dean, that’s not exactly news. You’ve used it in a fight before, to read intentions and stuff.”

Dean smirked, but made no response as the three of them settled in to eat. A few minutes later he threw a wink at Castiel, focused, and used his ability to shove Sam sideways out of his chair. He landed on the floor with a heavy thud, long limbs flailing. His head popped up above the table, and Dean snorted with laughter at the shocked look on his face, and his disordered hair. He wiggled his fingers at him teasingly, and laughed more when Sam huffed and glared in response. 

“It appears as though Dean’s abilities extend beyond the awareness and slight influence over emotions,” Castiel explained calmly to Sam, pointedly not acknowledging the fact that they were making a habit of conversations half on the floor this evening. Sam scrambled back into his chair.

“Telekinesis?” Sam looked at Dean with wide eyes, and Dean couldn’t tell if he was more impressed or afraid.

“Not exactly,” Castiel said. Dean wasn’t comfortable with how Sam was taking the news, so he left the explaining to Castiel and focused on his food. He didn’t feel up to defending himself for something he just discovered. Castiel went on. “He can’t move inanimate objects, he can only influence people. It’s not a physical force, he’s tricking your mind into thinking it is.”

Sam was definitely looking more scared now. Concern drew his brow down, and he pushed his hair back behind his ears. “Dean,” he said slowly, carefully. “How are you doing this?”

Dean shrugged and made a noncommittal noise. “I dunno I just… do it. I mean, it takes some focus, but I’m getting better. That’s why we were sparring, to help me improve my focus in the midst of a fight.” 

“But Dean,” Sam argued back. “You can control people’s minds? Isn’t that- wrong?” He was trying hard to halve a calm discussion, to avoid sounding accusational, but Dean’s flippant dismissal of the moral ramifications-

“You can snap out of your ethics spiral, Sammy. I’m not controlling anyone’s thoughts, this isn’t blood magic.” When Sam still had a worried crease between his eyebrows, Dean huffed impatiently. “Ok how about this? I’m gonna try and get you to think something. Full on college try, I’ll give it all I’ve got, and you can see what I can do with other people’s thoughts.”

Sam nodded his assent. He knew Dean wouldn’t do anything harmful. He’d just do something embarrassing, like- “Wait! You’d better not make me shave my head. Leave my hair alone.” He pointed a stern finger at his big brother.

Dean cocked his head, considering. “You know what, that wasn’t even close to what I was gonna do but if it turns out I can control your mind you’re totally getting a haircut. I’m thinkin’ one o’them double mohawks. We can dye it pink!”

Sam just glared.

Dean flashed a quick smile and closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. Sam felt calm and centered as Dean let his meditating state reach out to his brother. Castiel sat as quietly and unobtrusively as he could, looking back and forth between Sam and Dean, eager to see what would come of this exercise. Dan seemed sure of his limits, but last week he didn’t know he could repel people with his mind. There was no telling how much he could do as time went on and his abilities developed. 

The silence stretched on, long minutes passing by in an easy calm. Finally, _finally_ , Sam shifted a bit in his seat. Dean’s eyes flew open. “Well?” He asked expectantly.

“I feel calm and… kinda hungry?” Right on cue, Sam’s stomach growled noisily, despite the plate in front of him already being half demolished. Castiel couldn’t help the surprised laugh that fell out of his mouth.

Dean looked slightly disappointed, but mostly relieved. “Well I was trying to get you to go get me some pie. So there you go. I can leak emotions on you, but I can’t make you do or think stuff.”

“But the shove?” Sam asked- it had certainly _felt_ real.

“I believe Dean can push at your, um… self,” Castiel tried. He got matching confused-Winchester faces pointed his way. “Ok, the earliest manifestation of Dean’s abilities was seeing auras, which are an extension of the self. Then he could color auras, influence moods of those around him, and as of right now it’s still basically a mirror of his own emotions. I believe that with practice he’ll have more control over what he can project, and where. This new ability is applying force to an aura, which feels like a physical force, but it’s not…” he trailed off, unsure if he had actually cleared anything up.

“Oh! It’s sending a suggestion to certain groups of nerves that give a sensory feedback, that’s all.” Dean brushed it off like it was no big deal. Once Castiel pointed out the aura connection it was obvious, really. Or… not? Based on the sudden looks of understanding dawning on Sam’s and Castiel’s faces. 

“I’m sure I could figure out a shielding spell given enough time and research, but it would have to be extremely complex to be able to resist Dean, he is getting quite strong.” Castiel mused, almost to himself.

“Aw babe, it feels so good to hear you call me irresistible,” Dean said with a grin, desperate to lighten the mood.

Castiel squinted, and Dean could see that he had taken the statement literally and was going to respond in kind, but Sam saved by day by groaning and throwing a grape. “That was terrible,” he said as the grape bounced off Dean’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added another chapter to the count because one of them got away from me and I split it in half. Everything is typed up, it's just a matter of editing at posting at this point. I'll be doing my best to get these final few chapters up, but you know, life is busy and I'm not sure what might get in the way. I'm really excited to have this complete though, so I'll do my best not to keep you waiting.


	14. A Solution

Dean, Sam, and Castiel continued to discuss Dean’s new abilities, and Sam’s research into a solution for the Adler situation. Sam had found some old legends that talked about fairies getting cast out of the realm, but they read like fairy tales (ha) and didn’t have any useful or detailed information. The wording had struck Sam because it said that those who had been cast out were “ ** _cloven from the fae, ne’er more to know their brethren or gaze upon Eden_**.”

“Sounds like they’re dead,” Dean said bluntly.

Sam didn’t argue with him, but it was obvious that he didn’t think it was death. There was something in the words that he was missing…

“I remember those stories,” Castiel said thoughtfully, almost to himself. Sam sat forward eagerly, hoping Castiel would be able to tell them more and provide the missing puzzle piece.

“It’s not death,” Castiel continued. “It was worse than that. And existence without wings, without magic, without nation. Purgatory.”

“Ok so, banishment,” Dean said, trying to figure it out.

Castiel shook his head. “More than that. It’s not just sending them away, it’s a removal. I don’t know how to explain.”

The door to the chamber opened and Jessica Moore burst in, clutching an old, faded book to cher chest.

“Cleaving,” she breathed out, her eyes bright. The three of them stared at her uncomprehendingly. Jess closed the door behind her and brought the book to the table. Sam moved plates aside to give her space to set the book down, and she opened it to a page she’d marked with a scrap of fabric. 

The pages were yellowed, the ink a cloudy blue so faded that Dean had no idea how she could make out words, but he supposed it was her job to be able to read old texts. She gestured to random fuzzy blue blobs as she spoke.

“Cleaving is an ancient ritual that separates a fairy from… well, for lack of a better word, from fae. It strips their wings, they’re…” she squinted at the page. “They’re removed from the realm and unable to return. Their knowledge of our realm - and their origins - are removed completely.”

“It makes them human,” Sam breathed. He was looking back and forth between Jess and the book in awe. “And if we’re removing their fairy magic - abilities, sorry - that should break the Compelling that Naomi has on Samandriel.”

“Yes,” Castiel was catching on to Sam and Jessica’s excitement. “They’d be trapped in the human realm. They’d forget about Eden altogether, and live out their lives as miserable, mundane humans.”

“Ouch, dude,” Dean said, offended.

“That’s not what he meant,” Jessica said. “They’ll forget about Eden and about the fae, but their lives will never be whole again. They’ll feel that something is missing, but they won’t know what it is, and they’ll have no way to get it. They’ll just be unfulfilled, forever.”

“So it’s Men In Black style. Do we have to give them their human background stories?” Dean asked.

Jessica shook her head. “The spell is quite complex, it will weave all of that together for them. The mind wants things to make sense, and once we remove the ‘impossible’ notions of fairies and magic, and insert some basic information, their brains will do a lot to fill in the holes on their own.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sam said excitedly. “This is exactly what we’ve been searching for! What do we need to pull it off?”

Gabriel came in at some point, and the five of them outlined a basic plan. It would take a week or so to get everything they needed, a week where Dean and Castiel would have to stay concealed. Fortunately, there was a lot to keep Dean occupied. Sam and Jess smuggled every book, scroll, or scrap of paper that even hinted at Cleaving into Sam’s rooms and made careful, legible copies for Dean to work off of. Dean, as king, had to be the one to perform the ritual. Magic rules placed a lot of weight on ceremony and status, after all. He had a lot of reading and practicing and memorizing to do while Sam, Jess, and Gabriel gathered items and ingredients. Castiel studied alongside Dean, helping him decipher runes and correcting his work when he drew out the ones he’d be using.

Castiel was sitting at the table in Sam’s sitting room while everyone else was going about their daily routines, and Dean ran through the ritual. Dean spoke the words, make the gestures, drew the runes (in paint, not the mixture of herbs and oils they’d use for the real deal), and Castiel could feel the thrum of magic rolling off of him. Dean was focused on his practice, the neatness of his lines and the pronunciation of his vowels as he made his way through the ritual.

The steady beat of magic made Castiel’s ears ring, he could feel his heart thudding in his chest almost painfully. It was amazing to think that Dean was only half fae. Castiel had never seen his equal in power, not even among the oldest and most elite families. Not even in the Campbell line itself. Castiel was starting to get light headed. There was an ache in his shoulder blades, and he swayed a bit in his chair. Perhaps he’d been working too hard lately, when had he last eaten?

Dean glanced up for a quick moment, then did a double take, blood draining from his face. “Shit, Cas!” Dean almost shouted, and Castiel felt the magic leave him, snapping back into Dean with a small “pop” that sounded like the burst of a soap bubble.

“What happened?” Castiel asked, slightly slurred. His head was still swimming. “You were doing well. I think perhaps I need to eat something…”

Dean was somehow in front of Castiel’s chair and his hands were on Castiel’s face, his shoulders, ghosting over the ridges of his wings. “Yeah, I was doing too fucking well, man. It was _working_. On _you_.”

Castiel shook his head in an attempt to clear it. “No, it couldn’t, we don’t even have any of the ingredients. Just you…”

Dean growled. “Yeah, well that was enough for you aura to pull away from your body and for your wings to start fading away,” he snapped.

“What? Are they ok now?” Castiel twisted to look over his shoulder. His wings looked perfectly normal. 

“Yeah it’s fine, as soon as I pulled back it reversed. I thought it wasn’t supposed to do anything without all the other stuff!” Dean’s voice was edged with panic.

Castiel kept his voice calm, even though he still felt a bit off and Dean was projecting some panic onto him. “Well, there is a lot of power in words and gestures. Then, of course, it was you.”

Dean looked confused, and not at all comforted.

“Dean, you are by far the most powerful fairy I have ever encountered. Most of the ritual ingredients are for amplifying the spirit - making your magic stronger. Your scepter and orb do the same thing, and your royal status does much to make the whole thing permanently binding. Most likely it was written that it wouldn’t work without all of the items because anyone else would need all of this help to pull off the ritual.”

The explanation didn’t make Dean feel any better. “Why didn’t you stop me? I was Cleaving you, Cas! And you were just gonna sit there and let me do it? What the hell?”

“I didn’t realize what was going on,” Castiel said, a little defensively. “It wasn’t painful, I just felt sort of… floaty. I did feel an ache in my shoulders,” he said after a moment of thinking about it.

Dean rubbed between his shoulders. “Dude, if I'm practicing fucking magic and you feel weird you say something. What if I’d finished the ritual? I would’ve had to abdicate the throne to Sam and gone to live in the human realm with you, knowing what I had taken from you.”

“I’m sure it would’ve been reversible,” Castiel said, ignoring the bloom of warmth in his chest from how easily Dean talked about leaving Eden, like the two of them together was something inevitable and not a question. “You’d need at least the scepter and orb to seal everything at the end, to tap that ancient royal power.”

“Don’t try and convince me you know for sure it would’ve been fine. You didn’t know it would even affect you in the first place.”

Castiel didn’t have an argument for that - it was the truth, after all, so he just shrugged. Dean sighed and leaned forward until his forehead was leaning on Castiel’s collarbone. “Well, as long as Gabriel manages to get the scepter and orb it looks like we’re ready to go,” he mumbled. 

“It would seem so,” Castiel pressed a kiss into Dean’s hair. “We should rest.”

Dean nodded, and the two of them shuffled to Sam’s bedroom to lay down. 

“You’re ready,” Castiel said when they were settled. “We’ll get this done, and it’ll be over. We can let Gabriel and Sam know to get everything prepared for tomorrow.”

Dean just nodded and let exhaustion overtake him. The use of his power followed immediately by panic and worry had left him drained. _Tomorrow_. Tomorrow, it would all be over.


	15. The Cleavings

Sam was in his finest jacket, his prince’s circlet on his head, standing on the dais in the great hall and overlooking most of Eden’s nobility. He had called an emergency royal conference and anyone who could get to the capitol on short notice was there. They hadn’t given any details in the summons, and the gathered fairies were curious and speculating. Had the king found a bride? Did something happen on his tour? There hadn’t been news of his Highness since shortly after his arrival in Lerwick and nobody knew what that meant, was he ill?

Sam stood silent and regal before the murmuring crowd for a time, and then raised his hands for silence, which fell upon the hall immediately. He spoke clearly, his voice carrying over the flutter of wings and whisper of fabric from the anxiously shifting crowd.

“You are all here to bear witness to the trial of Zachariah Adler, Naomi Adler, Lucifer Pellegrino, and Metatron Jacobson.”

Before the crowd could react to this bombshell, the doors at the end of the hall swung open and Gabriel entered, leading a unit of guards surrounding the accused individuals. They were bound with rope that had been imbued with herbs and spelled to prevent Travel. Zachariah looked around the hall with disdain, as if he had been interrupted in the middle of an important task rather than pulled from a dungeon cell. Lucifer seemed smug and unconcerned, like everyone was following his master plan. Naomi was outraged - she was red in the face and demanding that the guards release her, that they had no right to treat her this way, that she would see every one of them punished. Metatron was pale and quaking with fear.

Their procession split the crowd like a ship through water and came to a stop in front of Sam on the dais. Gabriel bowed formally. “My Prince. I bring before you Zachariah Adler, accused of high treason and conspiracy. Naomi Adler, accused of blood spelling, conspiracy, and high treason. Lucifer Pellegrino, accused of conspiracy and high treason. Metatron Jacobson, accused of conspiracy and accessory to high treason. They await your judgment.”

Naomi’s voice rang out shrill and angry. “This is preposterous! These unfounded allegations are just an attempt to discredit the name of the noble house of Adler, a weak action by a weak prince. I _demand_ to be released-” her words cut off abruptly as from behind a closed door, Castiel wove his intent into a silencing spell directed at her. Naomi’s face burned with fury, but no sound escaped her.

Sam continued as if there had been no interruption. “Zachariah Adler. You have been found guilty of high treason for the orchestration of the assassinations of Samuel Campbell, Deanna Campbell, and Mary Winchester, and your wrongful claim of the throne thereafter.”

As Sam spoke, Zachariah’s aura began to shift and move, pulling away from his body, even though nobody in the room could see that part of the Cleaving taking place. What the crowd _could_ see was his wings starting to shimmer like a mirage, fading away. “What are- what are you doing to me,” Zachariah slurred a bit as the magic Dean was working from a small room just behind the dais clouded his mind.

“By order of the true king, Dean Winchester, by action of prince in line Samuel Winchester, and by ritual of the ancient laws of Eden, you shall be Cleaved from our people, from our realm, and from our knowledge.”

Fear came over Zachariah as the words registered, but he was too far under the spell to fight it. In a few more moments his wings were gone entirely and he crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Sam addressed the crowd as Zachariah was removed by guards.

“Zachariah Adler betrayed our king, and our people. He is no longer fae. He will live out his days as a human, ignorant of this realm. Without knowledge and without power, he will no longer be a threat to the peace and prosperity of Eden. Bring forth the next accused.” The crowd was absolutely still and silent - even if they had heard of Cleaving, no one alive had seen it done. 

Lucifer was pale and sweating but managed to maintain his nonchalant air, talking over Sam as his charges were listed. “Sounds great. Not like I’ll be missing much by leaving this place anyways,” he looked Sam up and down. His words became slightly slurred as he went on. “I find myself quite dissatisfied with the current administration, perhaps the human realm has a leader more to my liking.”

Dean almost dropped the thread of the spell in the next room when he thought about how true that statement was. Frankly, he was a little surprised he hadn't seen any posters advertising the need to “Make Eden Great Again.” He was able to complete the spell, and Lucifer’s falsely confident words cut off as he lost consciousness.

Dean burned the scroll he had used to work Lucifer’s Cleaving, sealing the spell, and took up the next one as he heard Sam call Naomi forward. He could feel a headache starting at the base of his skull, and the smoke from the herbs burning in the room was irritating his eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor at a low table. He had clean sheets of paper, a paintbrush, and a bowl of herbs and oils he was using as paint. His scepter and orb were resting in his lap, feeling him power, and the crown on his head was contributing as well. A fat-wicked candle was centered on the table, and a circle of vines and flowers on the floor enclosed him. Castiel was on a chair near the door to the main hall, currently focused on maintaining Naomi’s silence.

Dean chanted low, almost to himself, as he dipped his brush and started painting the Cleaving symbols on the blank paper. Power pulsed from him as he worked. He found Naomi’s aura and pushed his intent into it steadily. He found a thread leading away from her, and a tug found it connected to Samandriel. Dean yanked sharply, and the reaching thread flew back into Naomi’s self. He found more and more off-shooting threads as he continued, people she had bound to her, either through Suggestion or by Compulsion. One by one, he pulled them back.

~~~

Sam had listed Naomi’s charged like he had with the previous two, but he was out of things to say and her wings were still visible. She was livid, struggling in her bonds and shaking with anger, but still silent. Sam wasn’t sure what the holdup was, and was considering checking on Dean to see if there was a problem when he heard a loud gasp from the otherwise silent crowd. A woman stumbled, as if she had been struck, and looked at Sam with wide eyes before turning to Naomi with a triumphant smile. Naomi’s face was turning purple with rage, and if she could have made a sound she’d have been screaming.

The woman who had gasped seemed like she was about to say something, but was interrupted by the clang of silver on the floor as a serving boy dropped a tray of goblets with a gasp of his own. He looked at Naomi in amazement. “She’s gone,” he said softly, then grinned. “She’s gone!”

More gasps and stumbles followed as Naomi’s manipulative ties to fairies were severed, one by one. Sam looked around at the faces of relief and felt… justice. He noticed out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel take a small step to steady himself. He recovered quickly - Sam thought he was probably the only one to notice - but he looked confused. His eyes snapped to his aunt, questioning, but she was busy trying to get away, yanking and kicking at the guards holding her like a wild animal.

Finally, Naomi’s wings began to fade, disappearing into nothingness as she passed out, to the relief of her guards. Sam had been watching Metatron since the moment he’d figured out what was going on, but there was no reaction at all to suggest he’d been under her influence. He’d been a sniveling mess since Zachariah had been dragged out and didn’t even seem to know what was going on around him at this point, or that Naomi even existed. Sam almost sighted; Metatron’s betrayal had been his own, not forced by Naomi.

~~~

Castiel exhaled heavily when Naomi passed out, she had been fighting him hard, pushing back and trying to get her words out. He turned to see Dean holding a rolled-up piece of paper to the flame of the candle. He was hunched over, exhausted, and rubbed at his temples in an attempt to relieve the growing pressure.

“One more,” he said softly, and Dean raised his head to give a tired smile in response.

He sat up, rolling his head from side to side, and pulled another sheet of paper towards himself. Dean worked through the ritual one last time while Castiel listened, Eden blade at the ready for any brewing trouble on the other side of the door. 

~~~

Metatron’s Cleaving had been completed quickly and easily, and he’d been removed from the hall. The crowd was watching Sam, waiting for the next Earth-shattering revelation that he would bring on them. Sam turned away from the crowd and opened the concealed door behind him to reveal a weary Dean in his full king’s regalia. Surprised murmurs rose from the crowd as Dean stepped forward. He raised his hands for silence. 

“Fairies of Eden, I know that this was distressing, for all of us. It’s not something I want to do ever again. The safety of Eden and the autonomy of her people are my highest priorities, and I cannot allow any individual to threaten them for the sake of power.” He paused and looked over over the crowd, over _his people_. He saw faces he recognized, styles of clothing or shapes of wings that told him what region a fairy came from. There was trepidation in the room, a few who weren’t happy with Zachariah's leaving and the impact it would have on their incomes, but the overwhelming feeling in the room was relief, especially from the fairies who had been under Naomi’s influence.

“Eden is a free realm,” Dean went on. “There is no place here for corruption. Moving forward, the Crown will be actively pursuing peace and prosperity for all of Eden through communication, commerce, and community. This week I will be meeting with leaders from all parts of Eden to draft and sign the Comms Bill into law so that all citizens can be fairly represented.”

Dean had been hoping for a cheer, or at least some applause after his rousing speech, but it seemed that everyone was still processing everything that had occurred. An old woman near the front, obviously hard of hearing and speaking much louder than she thought, leaned to the young woman next to her and said, “ I thought he’d be announcing an engagement.”

“Grandmother,” the younger one said, glowing with embarrassment and trying to shush the old woman. 

“What?” The woman said, unabashed. “A royal wedding would do more to unite the realm than some silly law, Afriel. The citizens want to see our king married and settled.”

“Grandmother, please,” Afriel begged in a low, hushed voice.

Dean was startled into a laugh, and then stopped to think a moment. He was about to do something really stupid.

“About that,” he trailed off teasingly, smiling at Afriel and her grandmother. He reached back with his mind and nudged Castiel forward with a push against his back. Castiel stumbled out of the shadows of the doorway, and Dean kept up the pressure until Castiel was standing next to him on the dais. Dean handed over the scepter and orb to Sam, then turned to face Castiel and to take both of his hands in his own.

“Castiel Novak,” he said formally, raising his voice so it would carry over the whole crowd. “I love you, to hell and back. You have changed my life in more ways than I can say. Will you accept my courtship, and agree to become my Prince Consort?”

The room was dead silent as every single fairy held their breath, either from shock, anticipation, or both. Castiel’s eyes were wide, staring out at the crowd, but a gentle tug on his hands brought his attention back to Dean. It was suddenly simple. It was _Dean_ , which meant there was only one answer. 

“Yes, of course, yes.”

Dean grinned, bright and open and joyful, and kissed him The room erupted in a cacophony of cheers, exclamations, and frenzied discussions of the latest major event to have happened in this room, and everyone was in a great mood because Dean was flooding the room with his happiness. After a few moments of being lost in Castiel, Dean broke away and turned to address the crowd. It took a bit for everyone to quiet down. 

“Thank you all for being here. I have much work to do, but I will be meeting with regional leaders very soon to discuss and develop the Comms Bill. The castle will be open for those seeking aid or who wish to bring forth information on the trials held here today, or give insight into the operations of the realm that may help us in writing the Bill. As of right now, I’ve been gone from home for too long and I have some matters to attend to. Primarily, food and rest.” He waved to the crowd and everyone bowed low as he exited (through the main doors, for once) and made his way to his own chambers. Sam, Castiel, and Gabriel trailed behind him.

Dean stopped outside the door to his chambers. “You,” he pointed to Sam and Gabriel in turn. “You’re not invited. Cas and I are going in my room, and we will be left alone until we see fit to come back out.”

Both of them started to object, but Dean didn’t let them. “Gabriel, I know. I felt it during the Cleaving. We’ll talk about it later.” Gabriel looked down and nodded, more timid than Dean had ever seen. “Sam, whatever it is, it can wait. Go find Jessica and take her on a date that isn’t in the freaking library. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Sam nodded his acknowledgment and Gabriel bowed formally. Dean was surprised to find the bow entirely sincere. Dean opened his chamber door and shed his jacket, then stuck his head back out the door. “Sam!” When Sam turned from where he’d been walking down the hall, Dean said, “get me some bath water, would you?” He didn’t wait for a response before dragging Castiel inside the room and closing the door.

~~~


	16. The End

Dean took the opportunity of having Castiel alone to kiss him soundly, still standing in the entryway of his sitting room. He leaned back with his arms around Castiel’s waist to look at him, with his mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips and a slightly dazed expression on his face.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“So I kinda just proposed to you,” Dean said, and Castiel nodded. “In front of pretty much the entire realm.” Another nod, and a crinkle around Castiel’s eyes that gave away a held-back smile. Dean’s grin was blinding. “And you said yes.”

“That I did,” Castiel told him. “I love you, Dean Winchester. My king. My heart. What answer could I possibly have given but yes?”

“You could’ve said no. Hell, you probably should’ve.” Dean gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I don’t know why you keep me around, but I sure am glad you have enough poor decision making skills to stay with my sorry ass.”

“Excuse you, I will not have my fiance spoken of in such a way,” Castiel said loftily. “Besides,” he reached around Dean to grab one buttcheek and squeezed. “This ass is anything but sorry.”

Dean laughed, and kept laughing. He was _happy_ in a way he never thought he could be. The relief he felt now, without the sword of Zachariah or Lucifer hanging over his head, was enough to make him giddy on its own, but being here with the man he was going to marry, with his family and his kingdom safe, had him overflowing. He felt tears in his eyes, and then Castiel was laughing too, caught up in the joy that Dean was sending out. With the way he was feeling, Dean wouldn’t be surprised to hear singing and laughter throughout the whole city, feeding off his outpouring of emotion.

Dean wrapped a hand around the back of Castiel’s neck and rested their foreheads together, still grinning. “Goddamn, I love you,” he said, his voice rough and sincere. He pulled him in for a kiss, sweet and soft, but it grew in urgency as passion filled in the places their laughter had emptied out.

Dean began to walk backwards towards the bedroom, pulling Castiel along by the hand on his neck in the interest of maintaining their kiss. His other hand was exploring the planes of Castiel’s chest and stomach, curling possessively around the jut of his hip bone. He had just started to yank on his shirt, untucking it from his pants when there was a knock from a door on the side of the sitting room - the servant’s entrance. Both men froze like deer in headlights, staring at the door and the unknown threat behind it.

Another hesitant knock sounded and the voice of Sariel, head of the housekeepers at the castle, came through the simply-carved wood. “Your Grace? I’ve your bathwater here, ready to fill your tub.”

Dean pushed Castiel the rest of the way through the doorway and shut the bedroom door, attempting to straighten his clothes, _like I’m some teenager getting caught with a boy in my room_ , he thought. “Yes Sariel, of course, come in,” he called out, willing his voice to be even. 

Sariel opened the door and ushered serving boys carrying tubs of steaming water through into the bathing chamber. “If I may say, Sire, I’m so glad to have you back. The castle doesn’t feel whole without you in it.”

Dean smiled at her. “Can’t have a castle without its king, right?” He kept his smile warm, Sariel was sweet and genuine, and he’d accepted this role, he shouldn’t be uncomfortable with these types of statements.

“Begging your pardon Sire, it wasn’t the lack of king - Prince Samuel did a lovely job in your absence, none have complaints against him - it was _you_ that wasn’t here. Your presence fills this place up as none of us have felt since your mother lived here.”

The mention of his mom sent a sharp jolt of… _something_ through him. Not quite pain, but maybe nostalgia and a small tinge of regret that she couldn't be here, to see her home restored and her kingdom on its way back to peace. He didn’t know what was showing on his face, or leaking out of his aura, but Sariel said, “apologies if I’ve overstepped myself, Sire. I just meant to say that I’m happy you’re here and safe.”

Dean nodded, and had to clear his throat before he found his voice. “Thank you, Sariel. And thank you for the bath, I need to wash away my travels, and the last few weeks of… everything.”

“Of course, your Majesty. It’s my honor. Will you be needing anything else? Some dinner, perhaps?”

Dean thought on that for a moment. “Could you bring a basket of picnic foods? Meat, cheese, bread, maybe some fruit? I’m going to bathe and then I’ll probably rest for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll get to the food, and I don’t want to waste a meal by falling asleep.”

“Indeed, Sire. I’ll just leave that here in the sitting room, shall I?” Sariel gestured to Dean’s small dining table, and he nodded his agreement. The serving boys exited the bathroom with their empty buckets and bowed to Dean as they left through the servant's door. Sariel made her own bow and closed the door behind her as she left Dean’s chambers.

Dean let out a long, slow breath. “Cas?”

The bedroom door opened and the soft, sympathetic look on Castiel’s face meant that he’d heard Dean’s conversation with Sariel. Dean shook his head a little - he didn't want to talk about it - and said, “let’s take a bath.”

Tubs in Eden were much wider than in the human realm, so that one could lean back and stretch their wings out to either side. This left a sort of triangle shape, as they narrowed toward the end where the feet go. Dean had Castiel get in first, then he vanished his own wings and got in, leaning back against Castiel’s chest. He settled deeper into the tub, the hot water seeking out and melting away the last hidden pockets of stress that hadn’t been flooded out by his initial wave of relief after the day’s events. Castiel’s arms wrapped around him and for the first time since Uncle Bobby had taken him and Sam in as kids, Dean felt totally and completely safe.

He let his mind wander where it would - the more he tapped his fairy abilities, the less he slept. Over the course of his escape, travels, and the events ending in the Cleaving rituals, Dean had moved more into the restful meditation of the fairies and away from human sleep. He let out a soft snort of a laugh, and Castiel’s curiosity nudged at his mind. “I was just thinking,” Dean explained. “That Zachariah and Naomi are going to have to sleep now. All of those little human inconveniences. No teleportation, no wings, no magic. They’ll be so frustrated by everything, but they won’t know why. I can just imagine Lucifer having to deal with slow internet,” Dean trailed off with a chuckle. 

“Naomi with a common cold,” Castiel supplied.

“Zachariah stuck in traffic.”

“Metatron stepping in a pile of dog excrement.”

They laughed as they took turns putting the snobby, power-hungry fairies in mundanely human situations. Dean imagined they wouldn’t lose their sense of entitlement just because they were human, and it would make their lives - which were going to be painfully common and boring - that much more difficult to bear.

“Being ordinary will be the worst punishment for Lucifer,” Castiel said once they’d run out of scenarios. “He’s always wanted to be better, brighter, stronger than everyone else, to wield power over others.”

Dean sat up, suddenly uneasy. “You’re sure the spell prevents them from gaining power? I don’t want to hear one day that Luke Pellegrino is a mob boss, or has taken over a Fortune 500 company or some shit.”

“Yes Dean, I went over every syllable of that ritual,” Castiel assured him, but moved to stand up anyways. He wrapped himself in a towel and helped Dean out of the tub and into a warm, fluffy towel of his own. He kept talking as he led Dean to the bedroom, grabbing the basket of food that Sariel had left in the sitting room on his way past. “There are numerous restrictions on all of them. They will not be able to get into a position to threaten or hold power over another person, human or fairy. Cleaving is, above all, a protection spell. It was not built to transfer a threat, but to eliminate it without killing.”

“You’re right, I know,” Dean sighed. “It’s just hard to wrap my mind around the fact that it’s done, you know? I’m still expecting something I missed to pop up and bite me in the ass.”

“Hm,” Castiel hummed thoughtfully. He’d set the tray on the bedside table and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “It sounds like you need something to take your mind off it,” he murmured into the space just below Dean’s ear.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and put his arms around Castiel’s shoulders. “Oh? If only I had someone who could help me with that. Maybe Like a fiance or something… future Prince Consort, perhaps?”

With a heave of legs and a beat of wings, Castiel turned them around and tackled Dean to the bed. “Happy to be of service, your Highness,” he said, grinning.

~~~

Dean found that he was very glad he didn’t need sleep anymore, as he and Castiel shared the basket of food, lounging in bed as dawn was breaking. He felt more rested after a night with Castiel than he would have from a full night’s sleep. He tossed a grape in the air, and Castiel caught it with his mouth. Dean laughed. “You’re pretty good at this Prince Consort thing, you know that?”

“Of course,” Castiel said as he tossed a piece of strawberry to Dean, which bounced off his nose. “All of my military training and work throughout my life has been so I could wind up in your bed.”

“Mmmm,” Dean pretended to consider that statement. He grinned. “Worth it.” That earned him another strawberry to the face, followed by an armful of lethal fairy soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, kids! The end. Epilogue, coming right up!
> 
> And Sariel, in my head, is totally Mrs. Potts. So just picture that voice when you read her parts.


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****Five Years Later*****

Dean stands with his husband on the front steps of the castle with practically the entire kingdom in attendance. It’s the second largest gathering in Eden’s history, after Dean and Castiel’s wedding four years prior. Months of anticipation have been leading up to this moment, and Dean couldn’t be more excited. He looks to the side of the steps, to where Bobby, Ellen and Jo are standing. They stick out here with no wings at their backs, but they’re family and it’s important for them to be here in person for this event. 

Thanks to further research into spells they’d stumbled upon during their research for the Cleaving ritual, Dean had been able to establish a portal between his castle in Eden and Bobby’s house in the human realm. Dean could Travel freely between realms, but it kept the two parts of his life separate. Being king, unsurprisingly, took up quite a bit of his time, and he wasn’t able to visit the human realm often at all anymore. Castiel had suggested the portal one night when Dean was in a sad slump of homesickness, and within a week he had visitors. Now, his human family was a common part of life in Eden. 

~~~

A lot of changes had come to Eden over the past five years, many of them involving plumbing and technology. He found himself asking Bobby to make runs to the human home improvement store for supplies or tools, and drew up diagrams with Jo. He also dragged Ellen into Eden’s kitchen, armed with a box full of spices and an air of command that had the royal cooks hanging on her every word. A lot of the updates to the castle and surrounding homes had ended up as a weird human/fairy hybrid of construction since most electrical components didn’t work very well in Eden. They had to amend designs with runes and spells to get desired results, such as hot water on demand.

Opening the realm hadn’t brought changes to Eden alone. They’d re-established trade that had been stopped so suddenly after the death of the Campbells, leaving many witches and more _spiritually inclined_ humans at a loss for certain difficult to procure items. It had taken a lot of work, careful reaching out and making contact with circles of aware people. Those who were gifted, or who had a little fairy blood, or who just studied the lore of auras and other realms, runes and herbs and magic. They had opened up a shop, run by fairies adept at concealing their wings, and it became a trade hub. Most of the patrons were aware, but some were just curious, there to poke and giggle at crystals and jars of healing teas displayed prominently for the benefit of the unawares who wandered in. 

For the most part, people who came into the store knew exactly what they were looking for, and they traded in information or goods instead of money. Cole did all of the behind the scenes coordination for the inter-realm business, having earned Dean’s royal favor when he aided his and Castiel’s escape from Lerwick. His competence (and maybe a little bit the kiss thing) meant that he wasn’t suited to the role of valet, and Dean wanted to promote him, to find him something that would utilize his skills. Which was why, two years ago, Dean told him that they were opening a portaled shop between realms, and that he was going to be relying on Cole to run it for him. Cole’s amazed gratefulness vanished when Dean revealed the name of the shop, using all of his willpower to hold in a laugh at the look on his - now former - valet’s face.

“Trenton’s Trinkets and Talismans,” Dean said grandly. “Everyone loves a little alliteration, it’ll draw customers in.” For a second, he thought Cole was going to punch him. It was hilarious.

Instead, Cole just said, “yes, Sire,” through gritted teeth, bowed, and left the room. Dean let a self-satisfied smirk pull at his mouth as Sam walked in the door that Cole had just left through.

“Why is Cole muttering ‘punching him isn’t worth jail,’ over and over to himself?” Sam asked, gesturing with his thumb towards the hallway. Dean _lost it_ , his laughs echoing through the stone halls of the castle, and the amusement he was exuding hit Cole, who was surprised by his own snort of laughter escaping before he schooled his features back into annoyance and continued on to meet with the fairies he’d be interviewing to take on as his staff.

As much as he hated the name, Cole was the right choice to run the store. He took to his leadership position well, and Trenton’s Trinkets and Talismans was one of the most organized and efficiently run businesses Dean had ever seen, which was extra impressive considering it spanned two realms and used a barter system. Cole spent most of his time in the back office of the Eden location, even though a quick step through a portal hidden in the utility closet would bring him to the human side. He hated hiding his wings, it made him feel confined and claustrophobic. 

As many fae-made things there were that humans were in the market for, there were plenty of human objects that fairies wanted too. Glass canning jars were a big seller, better for preservation than their traditional earthenware, along with fabric and bedding. Once Dean brought his memory foam pillow back from his apartment above the auto shop and had stopped sneezing from the down ones, word spread and now “the king’s pillow” was in high demand all around Eden. Human witches were more than happy to make a trip to Costco to stock up on pillows to trade for spell supplies, and now they were in beds and nests all over the kingdom. 

The Eden side of the store was always well stocked with a variety of human candies, which the fairy children came to purchase with trades of tree bark or sea shells, maybe an especially smooth river stone. One notable fairy who spent a lot of time at the store was a certain bronze-eyed military general. It started as a matter of realm security - a portal was a weak point, a possible place of attack. Gabriel was assigned to monitor and personally oversee the security measures on both sides of the portals, charming the door on the human side heavily to prevent any possible threat from entering there. He was there for weeks as inventory was built up, weaving spells and carving runes into the very structures. Once they were up and running and secure, he still stayed. Presumably, for the candy.

“Hey Trip,” he greeted Cole as he hopped up on the desk of the back office. Gabe had gotten a kick out of the shop’s name, referred to it as Triple T which, of course, meant that Cole was Trip. So went Gabriel’s reasoning.

“General,” Cole grumbled, saving a box of owl feather from being crushed by Gabriel sitting on it. “Our candy supplier doesn’t come for three more days, what brings you in?” He was hunched over a ledger, making careful markings in his inventory columns. Gabriel didn't answer, he just leaned over to look at what Cole was writing. “How do you make everything so neat? If I weren’t watching you write it with my own eyes I’d think you’d used one of his Highness’ typing machines to create your ledger.”

Cole huffed in annoyance, but a blush on his neck and ears betrayed him. “Detail and precision are important, General. I would think that a military man such as yourself would appreciate the necessity.”

Cole held his breath as Gabriel leaned in even closer, the perfect picture of study as he turned the ledger to sweep his eyes over it. “Oh believe me, I understand,” he murmured, his voice dropping a register. He turned his sharp, assessing gaze to Cole. “I appreciate it more than you realize.” His eyes dropped, just for a split second, to Cole’s lips, before he was off the desk and heading towards the door to the front of the store. “Do you still have some of those warrior trio bars? I loved those ones, they were so fluffy.” Gabriel was relaxed and casual, like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The man was infuriating, his deliberate teasing more maddening than the king’s obliviousness had ever been, but Gabriel never _followed through_. He’d push and push and just when Cole thought something was going to happen, that they had reached a tipping point, _poof_ , Gabriel was gone with a casual dismissal and business as usual. Cole couldn’t stand it anymore.

He leapt out of his chair and reached the door, slamming it shut before Gabriel could walk out. “Gabriel,” he growled, and he could see Gabe’s eyes widen at the use of his name instead of his title. “What are you doing here?”

They were standing close, Gabriel’s hand still on the doorknob and Cole’s palm flat against the door, holding it closed. Gabriel swallowed, and didn't quite achieve his easy smirk. I told you, that fluffy soldier’s threeway-”

“It’s called a Three Musketeers bar, Gabriel, and you know that. I know, thanks to my ledger over there, that you gave me two dried sage bundles and an eagle feather and took eight of the candy bars just yesterday, and even you can’t have gone through that many already. So I’ll ask you again. Why. Are. You. Here?” Cole kept his voice low and even, but the simmering frustration was impossible to miss.

Gabriel shrugged helplessly, and Cole made a frustrated noise. Gabriel gestured wildly with his hands. “I really don’t know!” It was Gabriel’s turn to be frustrated and man, were they lucky his Majesty wasn’t here to witness this disaster, he’d never let them live it down. 

“You know,” Gabriel turned and started pacing around Cole’s office, neat and clean and not a single thing out of place. He pointed an accusing finger at Cole. “I usually go for nice people. People who are smiley and bubbly and- and- and who like me back! But then you’re here with your grumpy face and your precision and your whole-” he gestured at Cole, “self. It’s driving me crazy!”

Cole took a step towards him, wanting to respond, but there was no stopping Gabriel once he was on a roll.

“I respected you, when you helped their Majesties escape from Lerwick. That was brave and loyal, but I’m a soldier, I’m around brave and loyal every day. No offense, but I pretty much forgot about you in the aftermath of that whole fiasco. Then his Grace gave you the store, put me in charge of securing the portal and I found out you’re also smart and interesting and you wanted to learn about the runes and spells I was using and you _understood_ them! Not to brag, but that was some advanced magic I used. And you’re funny!” Gabriel yelled the last part, like he was accusing Cole of a crime. “Did you know you’re goddamn hilarious?” 

All of the air went out of him and he sat down, sighing in Cole’s desk chair. “So no, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I know I’m wasting my time, that I’m gonna get myself hurt. But here I am.”

“I like you,” Cole muttered into the silence.

Gabriel was too busy staring dejectedly at the floor to register the words for a few moment, but when they finally sank in he startled. “What-” his voice shook, and he paused to take a deep breath. “What did you say?”

Cole shrugged. “I like you. You’re completely ridiculous and annoying, but you’re smarter than you look and you’re competent. Clearly you’ve earned your rank, and play up your humor and demeanor so people underestimate you. But somehow you do it without playing dumb.” He shrugged again. “I dunno. It’s intriguing.”

In a somehow graceful windmilling of limbs, Gabriel shifted from a slumped over puddle of a fairy in the chair to sitting on the edge of the seat with perfect posture, one knee crossed over the other and a thoughtful hand beneath his chin. “Intriguing, you say?”

Cole smiled at him. “I also said annoying.”

“Yeah, but you like me,” Gabriel was grinning, and stood to walk towards Cole.

Cole sighed. “Eden help me, but I do. Now get out of my office, I have work to do. Come back tomorrow. You don’t even need to invent a terrible excuse to show up. You can just come say hello.”

Gabriel put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “ _Terrible_? Soldier’s threeway was pure genius. You loved it.”

Cole, despite himself, snorted a laugh. “You can’t prove anything.” His smile softened, and genuine affection shone through, hitting Gabriel like a punch to the chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Gabriel nodded. “Yeah. See you.” He left the office, letting their hands brush on his way past.

~~~

 

A reliable microphone and projection system had taken Dean the better part of two years to piece together - radio signals just did not cooperate with the thrumming magical energy in Eden. He had made it a top priority, though, because he knew it would be needed one day, and the moment was finally here. He steps up to the microphone, and his voice and image are carried to all parts of Eden, so even those who weren’t able to be here at the castle could be a part of this momentous occasion.

“Hey everyone,” Dean says familiarly. “Thanks for coming, or watching. Prince Consort Castiel and I are so excited to have you here, so we can announce the birth of the heir to Eden’s throne.”

Dean pauses for a few long minutes while the crowd goes absolutely _insane_ , the noise level deafeningly loud. Once it dies down enough for him to be heard, he continues. “Princess Eolande Deanna Mary Campbell Winchester was born yesterday afternoon. Both she and Duchess Jessica are doing well. Duke Samuel is taking this time to be with his wife and daughter, and they’ll make a family appearance once everyone is recovered. I do, however, have a sneak peek for you.” He winks to the crowd, and his image is overtaken by a photo of a sweet, round-faced baby girl with soft blonde fuzz on her head. She’s wearing a pale green dress with a strip of silver lace around her head, resembling a tiara. Her wings are pale and colorless, almost entirely see-through, but Dean was told that babies’ wings didn’t gain color until two or three years of age.

After an appropriate amount of time for everyone in Eden to ooh and aah over the new princess, the cameras are back on Dean, who is staring and smiling like an idiot at the picture of his niece still up on a screen behind him. It takes a nudge from Castiel for him to snap out of it. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” The crowd cheers their agreement, and Dean feels like he’s overflowing happiness across the entire kingdom, and he’s not sure he’ll ever stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're at the end! This story has turned into so much more than I ever thought it would be. Thank you for sticking with me, or for stumbling upon this later on, or however you came here. Every view, kudo, and comment is like a warm hug right to my heart.


End file.
